


Runaway Son of Man

by demizorua



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: (again never explicitly mentioned but He Is), (kids don't be like alex, Autistic Ryland (Good Game), Autistic Ryland Tate (Good Game), Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Misgendering, Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Hatred, Trans Alex Taylor (Good Game), Trans Male Character, bind safely), deadnaming, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demizorua/pseuds/demizorua
Summary: Son of man, look to the skyLift your spirit, set it freeSomeday you'll walk tall with prideSon of man, a man in time you'll beAlex-centric sequel/companion fic toIt's Okay.
Relationships: Ryland & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate/Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland/Alex Taylor (Good Game)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 25





	1. They Barely Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh Hey!! Finally posting this! It's been. Months, but I'm actually really happy with this whole thing!
> 
> You don't _have_ to have read [**It's Okay**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905683/chapters/52284916) to understand this, but it heavily references a lot of scenes from that fic!
> 
> Title and description primarily from [**Son of Man** by **Phil Collins**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiBaBca7-rY). Chapter titles and further inspiration from [**Runaway** by **Planet Booty**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81mSHG9qXx0).
> 
> Thank you to Vziii for beta reading!

_I will no longer allow you to waste my time and resources on your nonsensical behavior. I have been more than generous, and yet you continue to make a mockery of me. You will not receive any further aid or support._

_Do not try to contact me again._

Sighing, Alex shoved the worn piece of paper back into his pocket, pulling his thin jacket tighter around his shoulders. It had been a month since he found the letter on his doorstep and, even now, Alex could barely believe that it was real. Well, that wasn't entirely true. It was easy to believe that his father would send him something like this. Not all that much had ever changed on that front — his dad never really helped him in the first place. Still, now that he was completely on his own, it stings a bit more, knowing that he has nobody to rely on.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Alex exited the alleyway he’d spent the night in and merged into the flow of the sidewalk. He paid no mind to the judgemental stares from the people around him, meeting any that lingered for too long with a plastered-on smile. He was well aware of how he looked; his hair was an unsalvageable mess, his clothes were dirty and torn, and he was sure that his face reflected the exhaustion that had clung to him so relentlessly over the past few weeks.

Not having any particular destination in mind, Alex absently followed the pedestrian traffic. As he continued on, he took note of each face that passed him by. Everyone had somewhere to be, everyone was moving with purpose. Person after person, each one with their own lives, their own experiences. There was no way for Alex to tell who they were, what they were doing. They were just another face in the crowd. Just like he was.

As someone shouldered past, shoving him out of the way, Alex stifled a humorless chuckle as he stepped aside. He’s grown used to people disregarding him, used to the disrespect, the hostility. Alex isn’t anything special. He knows that. He had no impact on the world; he leaves no mark.

As he waited at the crosswalk among the throng of people, Alex remembered that nobody would miss him if he was gone.

It wasn’t a new realization by any means. Alex wouldn’t call himself suicidal, per se, but he certainly didn’t value his life all that much. Would he ever actually kill himself? No, absolutely not. Alex could say that with certainty. He could never bring himself to that level, regardless of how far he falls. It’s not that he looks down on people who do; quite the opposite, actually. He fully understands why people would feel that they have to… do that, and he feels nothing but empathy for those who are in that position.

But he can’t. He promised himself that he never would. He promised that for his mother when she left him all alone. Alex will never allow anyone else to feel how he did then. Even if nobody would notice, even if nobody would care, he couldn’t take that risk.

He could never force that on another soul.

Alex was torn out of his thoughts by the familiar sound of an acoustic guitar nearby. Halting abruptly, he focused in on the alluring melody, smiling apologetically at a frustrated woman who ran into his back. He quickly looked around, searching for the source of the music. Taking off in its direction, Alex tightened his grip on his bag, his tattered and ripped sneakers carrying him down the sidewalk.

Two blocks down, he found what he was looking for. Sitting outside a local diner, a kid no older than 20 was strumming away at a weathered guitar. His case sat open beside him, a pitiful handful of change scattered on the base as he played. 

Although numerous people came and went from the diner, nobody paid any attention to the ragged busker, despite his clear skill and desperation. Whenever someone would pass by without stopping the kid would toss his head, flicking his shoulder-length hair to the side. Reaching up to run his hand through his own cascading curls, Alex stifled a dry chuckle, recognizing the familiar nervous tic.

Alex frowned, noticing the exhaustion plain on the busker’s face, an amicable smile plastered on as a poor disguise. Checking his pockets, Alex searched for any money he might have on him, empathizing with the struggling kid. He’d been in a similar position himself, singing on the streets in hopes that he could scrounge up enough to pay for food. Ever since his smoking habit picked up, though, he hadn't been able to hold a note nearly as well as he used to and had since stopped trying altogether.

Alex managed to find two fives and a handful of coins scattered throughout his pockets. It wasn’t as much as he would’ve hoped to find, but when most of his funds get spent on weed and alcohol, he can’t expect much else. Dropping the small amount of money in the battered guitar case, Alex smiled at the younger man, giving him a thumbs-up before continuing on down the street. It wasn’t much, but he hoped that it would help, if only a little. He deserved it more than Alex did, anyways.

As he continued to wander, Alex’s thoughts drifted off again. A familiar fog fell over his mind, the same cloudiness having blurred the days together into a dull haze of bar hopping and sleeping in alleyways. _I've been awfully thoughtful today… I need a drink._

Alex wasn’t sure where he was, didn’t know where the nearest bar was, but he was sure he could find one without too much trouble. Worst case scenario, he still had some weed in his bag, so he could always crash behind a restaurant and smoke for a while, like usual.

_Every day is the same_ , Alex thought, _nothing’s ever gonna change for me. Not at this point, after everything that’s happened. Why fix bother fixing things?_

His life may be broken, but there was nothing Alex could do to fix it, even if he did try.


	2. Excuses Succeed

As Alex slowly faded into consciousness, he faintly registered being surrounded by the foreign feelings of comfort and warmth. Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, he smiled drowsily, nuzzling into the pillow beneath his head. The surface he was laying on was much softer than the solid ground he had grown accustomed to, and it was strangely quiet around him, the only sound coming from the quiet hum of various appliances.

_Wait._

Jolting upright, Alex took in his surroundings cautiously. He wasn’t outside — that much was obvious. Looking around, it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t in an abandoned building or some bar’s backroom like he'd initially guessed. He was on a couch in an unfamiliar apartment, a blanket draped over his legs and his backpack on the floor beside him.

As he slowly regained awareness, Alex registered a familiar throbbing pain in his temples; the tell-tale sign of a hangover. Bringing a hand to his forehead, Alex tried to quell the mounting anxiety in his gut, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had clearly gotten himself shitfaced drunk — _again,_ he thought with a sigh — and now he was here. Wherever “here” was. He just had to stay calm — _don’t panic, dammit_ — so he could figure out how he found himself on some stranger’s couch.

Closing his eyes, Alex began fiddling with the frayed edges of the blanket, wracking his brain for any hints as to what could have happened during his blackout. His thoughts had been acting up, he remembered, so he went to some random bar and got a few drinks. After the fourth beer, things started getting a little fuzzy. He remembers yelling — some kind of disagreement, maybe? — and then he was on the street again.

Alex’s eyes were tightly shut as he tried to fight through the fog clouding his memory for any hint as to what had happened, before he was abruptly startled by a loud sound from further in the apartment. He felt his heart rate quicken at the noise, his tired mind scrambling to identify it. The sneeze — that’s what it was, a sneeze — was followed by a much quieter sniffle, and then the apartment was plunged into silence yet again.

Alex stared into the deeper recesses of the apartment for a few moments, waiting to see if there would be any other sounds. Then, confident that the mystery person had likely fallen back asleep, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The presence of this other person — probably the owner of the apartment, he reasoned — sparked recognition in Alex’s mind. He had returned to one of his regular bars, that’s it, hoping to crash there again. He’d been distracted, though, by someone… someone he couldn’t identify sitting alone at the bar.

Frowning, Alex struggled to conjure up an image of the person, failing but for a fuzzy picture of long hair, a distinctive bleached streak standing out clearly in his muddled memory. While he couldn’t recall what the person looked like, Alex clearly remembered being enamoured with them. They were quiet, somewhat closed off, but they were unusually kind to him, Alex was certain. They let him hang around despite his drunken state, and they didn’t ditch him when they probably should have, in all honesty. Alex had no idea why they would be so nice to a complete stranger like him.

Gaze darting down to the blanket in his lap, Alex’s eyes widened. Shit, did they let him into their apartment? Is that where he was? Alex had wormed his way into sleeping on stranger’s couches before, although he was hesitant to do so. He always felt bad about it, exploiting the kindness of others for his own personal gain. A solid ball of guilt settled in the pit of Alex’s stomach, joining his pounding head in making him feel like absolute garbage.

Fighting through his growing headache, Alex staggered to his feet, clumsily trying to fold the blanket and laying it on the couch he woke up on. Leaning on the back of the sofa for support, Alex took in his surroundings once more, taking note of the dusty, dilapidated state of the apartment. He really should just leave. The last thing he wanted to do was burden the poor stranger any further… but he can’t just disappear without saying anything! Can he?

Fidgeting with his hands nervously, Alex’s gaze settled on the apartment’s kitchenette. It wasn't anything special; a small fridge in the corner, a beat-up microwave on the counter, dishes piled up in the sink, and a virtually untouched stovetop. Not fancy by any means, but his sleep-addled mind lingered on it a bit longer than he normally would have. This mystery stranger clearly didn't cook often… maybe he could make them something? He wasn't exactly the best cook, but there wasn't anything else he could do for them, and he didn't want to leave without paying them back in some way.

Making up his mind, Alex carefully made his way over to the kitchen area, leaning on the walls and furniture for support. Opening the fridge, Alex ignored his pulsing migraine, tearing his eyes away from the bottled water at the reminder of the almost painful dryness in his throat.

The fridge itself was mostly empty, the majority of the contents being bottles of water. A half empty jug of milk sat front and center, and various cans and packages were scattered around it.

Scanning the containers, Alex was drawn to a mostly empty carton of eggs on the top shelf. Eggs are easy to make, right? Grabbing the carton, Alex turned to the cupboards, searching them aimlessly. What else do you need for eggs? Salt? Maybe? Alex grabbed a random pan he found in a drawer, laying it on the stove. Deliberately ignoring how domestic this felt, he turned a random knob on the stove, one of the burners igniting with a hiss. Alex moved the pan to the lighted burner, placing the carton of eggs on the counter and opening it. Grabbing one of the eggs, Alex hesitated.

"You just gotta… break it, right?" he muttered to himself, turning the egg over in his hand. Recalling having seen utensils in one of the drawers, he shuffled over, taking out a fork and holding both it and the egg over the pan. Pursing his lips, he hit the tines of the fork against the shell, yelping when the egg fragmented, pieces of shell falling into the pan alongside the egg itself. Alex frowned, staring at the tiny pieces of shell scattered in the pan.

_That… that was fine, right? Yeah, totally. Maybe._

Tossing the remains of the shell into the nearby garbage bin, Alex wiped his hand off on his shirt, returning to the stove. The egg sizzled in the pan, the faint smell drifting around the room.

Alex was abruptly reminded of his mother — she used to make him breakfast before school, back when he was still young. The smell from the pan caused the memories to come flooding back; images of his mother's smile, the feeling of her soft hands stroking his cheek, the sound of her gentle voice reassuring him, making him feel safe, feel _loved_. It'd been ages since Alex had last thought about her, since something had dragged those happy times to the forefront of his thoughts. He had missed it.

He missed her.

All of a sudden, Alex's reverie was broken by a harsh hissing sound, and he was struck by the acridic smell of burned food. Wiping his eyes, Alex glanced down to see a blackened mess in the pan where the egg once was.

"Shit," he hissed, turning the stove off in a panic. "Shit shit shit shit shit-!!" Grabbing the pan by the handle, he rushed over to the trash can, hurriedly trying to scrape the mess off the pan with the fork. _God_ , he's such a fuck up! Making a mess of some kind stranger's kitchen after sleeping on their couch — _good going, dipshit!_

Alex was so caught up in his panic that he didn't hear anyone enter the room, his back turned to the hallway.

"The fuck?"

Yelping, Alex spun around, feeling like a child caught with their hand in the sweets jar. Someone stood in the entrance to the main room, their hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. He looked familiar; odds are he was last night's stranger. _Ryland,_ his brain chimed in helpfully. _His name is Ryland._

Alex had apparently spent too long staring dumbstruck, as Ryland's expression had faded from confusion to one of boredom. Smiling nervously, Alex set the pan and fork on the counter, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Hey — man, I'm — I'm _so_ sorry," he stammered, eyes darting around the room. "I didn't — I mean, I just wanted to—" Wringing his hands anxiously, Alex stumbled towards the couch he had woken up on, gesturing to the door with his thumb. "I — I was just leaving, man, I—"

"Alex." Alex immediately froze, his mouth snapping shut. His panicked eyes turned to the stranger — _Ryland, his name is Ryland_ — searching his face for any signs of anger. Instead, he was met with exasperation, a slight hint of amusement gracing the other's features. "Chill out, alright? 'M not mad."

Alex's shoulders dropped, the tension flowing out of his body. His smile relaxed, nervousness fading into relief, then quickly morphing into embarrassment as he was reminded of the mess in the kitchen. Ryland must have caught on to the burst of shame, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his mouth.

"It's fine," he said, making his way into the kitchen, "I wasn't gonna use those eggs, anyway." Dropping the pan into the sink, Ryland turned to one of the cupboards Alex hadn't opened, pulling out a box of plain store-brand cereal. Alex stood awkwardly, completely shell-shocked as Ryland got out two bowls, setting them on the small table nearby. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, he looked at Alex expectantly, gesturing towards the empty chair across from him.

Realizing what was happening, Alex quickly found himself tearing up, coughing to hide the fact that he was nearly brought to tears by some stale cereal. Sitting across from Ryland, Alex poured the cereal into his bowl, not allowing himself to take as much as his stomach demanded. The two men ate together for a few minutes, the silence tense but not unwelcome, before Ryland spoke again.

"So," he began, and Alex had to stop himself from flinching.

“I — I can — don’t — I can go,” Alex blurted out, stumbling over his words as he tried to intercept what he knew was coming. It was easier this way, to spare himself the pain of being kicked out by leaving before it could happen.

“Go _where,_ ” Ryland asked flatly, his tone free of judgement. Alex froze, caught off guard once again.

“Wh — where?” Ryland nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, I dunno, I just… I thought I’d get out of your hair…?” Ryland stared at him blankly, making Alex squirm in his seat. He’d never encountered anyone who didn’t immediately want him gone, and he had no idea how to handle it.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, Ryland spoke up.

“You can stay here a while.” Alex balked at that, blinking owlishly.

“Huh?” 

“You can stay here." Ryland shrugged, fiddling with his ponytail aimlessly. “S’not like I’ve got anyone else comin' around.”

For the umpteenth time, Alex found himself completely dumbfounded. All he could do was stare at Ryland, his mind racing as he struggled to process what he'd just heard. He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling to articulate his thoughts. Staring down at his hands, Alex attempted to sort through the barrage of questions whirling around in his head. Finally, he looked back up, meeting Ryland's concerned gaze with teary eyes.

"Why?" Alex croaked out, his voice no louder than a whisper. Thankfully Ryland seemed to understand what he meant, because Alex didn't think he could manage to explain any further.

Ryland frowned, his brow furrowing in contemplation. Alex watched anxiously, terrified that he was going to change his mind, that he made a mistake.

"I dunno," Ryland finally said, his eyes trained on the table. Alex realized that he had been almost avoiding eye contact the entire time. "You're not some dangerous weirdo and, I mean, I've got the space…" He trailed off, leaving the last part unsaid.

_Ryland's lonely._

A wobbly smile slowly spread across Alex's face and, before he could stop himself, he leaned over the pitiful table to hug Ryland. He felt Ryland stiffen immediately, closing in on himself, but to his credit, he didn't pull away. Still, Alex could feel his discomfort, and he quickly leaned back, leaving Ryland his personal space.

"Thanks so much, dude!" Alex easily slid back into his people-pleaser act, plastering an airy smile on his face. He couldn't disguise the dampness on his face, though, and he hoped Ryland would understand just how grateful he was.

"Yeah, no problem," Ryland said, gathering the dishes from the table and standing up. Once Alex realized what he was doing, still dazed from his hangover, he leapt to his feet, putting a hand on Ryland's arm.

Both men flinched at the touch, Ryland freezing, and Alex being struck by a strange sense of deja vu. Quickly releasing his arm, Alex took a half step back, giving Ryland ample space. Ryland blinked a few times, evidently trying to clear his head, so Alex decided to step in.

"I can clean up, man." Ryland blinked a couple more times, focusing his gaze on Alex, then shrugging. He set the bowls by the sink, stepping back so Alex could access it in the cramped kitchen.

"Sure, whatever," Ryland mumbled. He seemed a bit distracted; he wasn't _upset_ , per se, but he looked at least a bit bothered. Alex noticed that he was rubbing his sleeve, his gaze somewhat distant.

Alex rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, knowing better than to question his new roommate right off the bat. Turning on the faucet, he grabbed the aging sponge on the counter and began to wash the bowls.

"I'm gonna go change," Ryland said, already making his way back towards the inner apartment. "We can go get any stuff you have in a bit."

"Cool! Thanks, buddy," Alex called over his shoulder. He quickly finished washing the two bowls, but decided to wash the remaining dishes piled in the sink's basin. He needed the time to think, anyways.

As he scrubbed away, hot water numbing his hands, Alex let his mind wander freely. He understood how Ryland felt: lonely, desperate for companionship, for comfort. Alex had spent the past few years carrying that feeling around, trying to fill the void with various vices to no avail.

Now, he had Ryland, though. It's almost sad how quickly he got attached, how desperate he was for company. He would've thought that he'd have learned better by now, after all that's happened to him… Ryland's nice, though! He invited Alex into his life; he didn't have to do that!

_That's because he doesn't know you._ Alex frowned, his thoughts quickly taking a negative turn. _He just feels sorry for you — once he finds out what a piece of shit you are he'll kick you out. Just like everyone else._

Alex paused, frowning down at the sink. That… that was probably true. Ryland didn't know hardly anything about him yet. Who's to say how he'll react once he gets to know him? Alex would like to believe that he'd still embrace him but, if he's honest… he probably won't. Nobody else had, so why would he? Besides, he didn't want to overstay his welcome.

He was just a burden to have around, after all. It's what he deserves.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alex shook his head, drying his hands with a tattered dish towel. This whole thing was temporary; he shouldn't get too comfortable. Alex would stay for now, he'd accept Ryland's kindness, but he'll be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

In the meantime, Alex would do his best to repay all the things Ryland had already done for him. Alex isn't a likeable person, he knows that, but he can still try to be good. He owes it to Ryland. The first person who's been kind to Alex in ages.

When Ryland returns Alex plasters on his most dazzling smile, shoving his fears and insecurities back down. As Ryland shows him around the apartment, leading him around the dingy space, Alex forces himself to keep his distance from Ryland, never getting too close.

This is temporary. He can't grow attached, he can't get invested. Don't be a nuisance, don't be a burden. This is temporary. Just a few days, then he's back on the street.

Just a few days, then he'll be on his own again.


	3. The Courage to Bleed

Standing in front of the sink, Alex forced himself to stare at the mirror before him. Staring right back at him stood someone he didn't know, a stranger. Alex sighed, eyes falling to his bare chest.

He didn't recognize himself.

Alex let his gaze trace over his features, following the familiar, disappointing path down his body. Traveling from his eyes — _too large, too wide_ — further down his face, sliding along the slope of his jaw — _too rounded, too feminine_ — down to his neck. His eyes fell past his shoulders — _not wide enough, not broad enough_ — down his torso. Forcing himself to gloss over his chest, Alex's gaze continued on; climbing down his ribs — _look how pronounced they are; you're too skinny, too bony, too thin_ — to his waist — _too wide, too pronounced, too **feminine.**_

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stand to look at the stranger in the mirror any longer.

Pointedly avoiding the reflective surface, Alex quickly got dressed, moving on autopilot. It was a simple routine, and one Alex took comfort in, the simplicity of it relaxing his mind. Put in his packer, tug on a pair of baggy jeans that hid the curve of his waist, adjust packer, put on his binder, overhead stretch, breathe, overhead stretch, then relax. Pull on his baggy undershirt, button up the colorful shirt he picked out, adjust the packer again.

Taking a slow breath, mindful of the constriction of his chest, Alex turned back to the mirror with only slight hesitation. He already looked more like himself, his carefully picked clothes fitting him loosely in all the best ways.

Opening a cardboard box tucked away far beneath the sink, Alex pulled out his cheap makeup kit. Setting the various items out on the counter, he grabbed a round, flat brush and dipped it into the container of primer, applying a thin layer of the gooey substance to his face.

While he waited for the lotion to absorb, Alex couldn't help but breathe out a chuckle. He had never been opposed to makeup as a child; quite the opposite. While he had despised the formal dresses his father forced him to wear to business events, he had always looked forward to whatever party or gathering was coming up next, if only for the chance to paint his face with his mother's makeup kit.

The various bright colors of lipstick and eyeshadow had always allured Alex, and his mother used to encourage his experimenting. He fondly remembers sitting on his mother's lap in front of her vanity, trying out the various hues with his mother's help. His mother let him wear whatever combination he wanted, even to formal events; he especially loved one container of sparkly blue eyeshadow his mother bought him.

That all changed when his mother died. His father threw away all the brightly colored palettes, only leaving the demure, feminine colors for Alex to work with.

He had never enjoyed makeup as much after that.

Shaking his head, Alex forced his thoughts away from his father as he started applying the liquid foundation. Today was going to be good; he was going to _make it_ good, dammit! Alex forced a smile at his reflection as he made sure he had blended properly, ignoring the way it didn't reach his eyes.

Ignoring the tube of concealer on the counter, Alex went straight for his contour kit. He wasn't too concerned with blemishes and the like; it was the roundness of his face that bothered him. Picking up his usual sculpting brush and bronzer Alex let his mind go blank, focusing solely on the process of brushing the powder underneath his cheekbones.

Alex had done this so many times it was almost second nature, and he always appreciated how the application process would occupy his thoughts rather than allowing them to wander towards more… undesirable topics. His focus was entirely on blending the blush and bronzer, doing his best to highlight his cheekbones and make his face appear more angular.

Once he was somewhat satisfied with his work, Alex set the brush down, packing up most of his kit. All that was left was to fill in his eyebrows with an eyebrow pencil; something he'd been doing for so long he didn't even have to think about it. Thickening his eyebrows had been the first thing Alex had done once he came out to himself, and he almost didn't recognize himself without the extra detail.

Placing the pencil back in the box and tucking it away in its hiding spot, Alex took a step back, scrutinizing his reflection. He still saw the glaring flaws staring back at him, but Alex told himself that they were less obvious, less apparent than they seemed.

Positioning his hair so it covered the rounded edges of his face, Alex forced another smile onto his face, knowing there was nothing else he could do for the time being. His bright red shirt was loose enough that the slight curve of his chest was almost unnoticeable. Don’t focus on it, everyone’s chest goes out a bit, people have _lungs, damn you_. The khaki pants were too short for him, but they fit his waist loosely and he hadn’t bothered to replace them.

His jawline and cheekbones were much more defined than they naturally were, his face much less rounded looking as a result. Sure, all Alex could see was the roundness of his chin, the pitiful state of his growing stubble, the arch of his eyebrows, but he had to believe that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. He was just much better at picking out the mistakes since he knew where to look.

Carefully ensuring that everything was just as he'd found it, Alex left the bathroom, inhaling deeply to force his worries out of his mind.

He had more important things to focus on than his dysphoria.

Ryland was sitting on the sofa when Alex emerged into the main apartment, raising an eyebrow at his roommate's early appearance.

"You're up early," he commented, pausing whatever game he had been playing and turning towards him. Alex grinned back at him, waving a hand dismissively as he gathered his things. He may not need to carry around his backpack anymore, no longer living on the streets, but Alex didn't feel comfortable leaving without it.

"I've gotta meet up with some old buddies," Alex said, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and hurrying towards the door. "We're just getting a couple of drinks; don't wait up for me!"

"It's 10 A.M." Alex heard Ryland call as he rushed out of the apartment. Ryland knew about Alex's penchant for day drinking — that's why Alex was so confident in his excuse. As he slipped out the back exit to their apartment building, Alex pulled out his phone, typing "parks near me" into Google.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't _actually_ going day drinking.

The truth is, Alex had been saddled with intense guilt over the past few months. It had been almost a year since he met Ryland, since he was invited into the other man's life, his home. It was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, just until Ryland got tired of Alex. He'd prepared himself for that, keeping his things packed so he could leave the second Ryland got sick of him hanging around.

The problem is, that moment never came.

Ryland had never kicked Alex out. As the weeks went on, he didn't say a word as Alex slowly settled into their now-shared apartment. Alex's personal things began to accumulate in the shared living space as he grew more comfortable, not even aware of what he was doing.

It took Ryland offering to get him a dresser for Alex to realize what had happened.

Alex had wanted to leave, _tried_ to leave numerous times, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was so starved for affection that Alex had functionally imprinted on Ryland like some kind of lost baby duckling, forming a remarkably strong attachment to the only person to show him kindness in years. Alex felt guilty for mooching off of Ryland, for basically taking advantage of him… but he couldn't leave.

He couldn't handle being alone again.

Part of Alex wishes that Ryland would just kick him out already since it's so much easier to leave when he's not wanted.

The rest of him is terrified of that.

So, here he is. Wandering the city, hoping to find some way to help. Alex isn't dumb; he could see that Ryland wasn't in the best state of mind. He knows depression well enough, can recognize it when he sees it. As if Alex hanging around wasn't enough, Ryland had trouble just taking care of _himself,_ which certainly didn't make Alex feel any better.

Alex's phone chimed melodically, his GPS indicating he had arrived. Sitting on a nearby bench, Alex allowed his eyes to slip shut, breathing deeply as he listened to the ambiance of the park.

There wasn't any particular reason he'd chosen to go sit in a park, aside from needing somewhere to be. Alex knew himself well enough to know that if he let himself move on autopilot he'd wind up at some bar or another, and he couldn't risk getting drunk right now.

This was too important.

Alex listened to the faint noises of the city, masked by the natural sounds of birds chirping, trees rustling in the breeze. Even when he was sleeping outside, Alex wasn't much of a park person; they were too open, too exposed, carried too many risks. Still, the gentle atmosphere was better than the alternatives, calming the rapid beating of his heart.

Exhaling sharply, Alex opened his eyes, turning his attention back to his phone. Reopening the browser, he resumed the search that had occupied so much of his time in recent weeks.

Alex was no stranger to financial problems, and he could see that money was tight. Ryland hardly made enough to support himself; with Alex hanging around his expenses only went up. Alex tried to pay rent, to pay Ryland back for everything, but he wasn't exactly swimming in cash. Most of his funds would go towards necessities like clothes, with any extra money being put towards ultimately frivolous needs, like weed, makeup, and hormones. The guilt ate away at him, but Alex couldn't bring himself to quit, and he wasn't ready to come out to the world, not again.

So he wanted to help. If he could help with money, he wouldn’t be as much of a burden on Ryland! If he could help with money, maybe Ryland wouldn't get tired of him! If he could help, Ryland wouldn't kick him out! If Alex helped, he could stay!

Unfortunately, Alex had no idea where to start. At first he thought he could go back to singing on the street, but he quickly realized that wasn’t an option. Not only was he still keeping up with his self-destructive habits, but he couldn’t risk his old band being brought up.

Alex wouldn’t be able to handle facing that part of his life anytime soon.

He'd been taking odd jobs here and there, but the pocket money Alex got from them was only barely enough to finance his own needs. So he’d taken to browsing the internet, aimlessly searching for some way to make money.

Out of ideas, Alex tried typing various things into Google, attaching “money making” to the end. Simple money making, online money making, survey money making; he was hardly expecting to get useful results from any of these. Soon Alex was just free-associating, typing in whatever happened to come to mind.

Just as he was about to take a break, maybe go walk around, something caught his eye. On the third page of the results for “video game money making” — Ryland was playing a video game before he left, so his lazy mind opted to try it out — a headline that was clearly intended to catch people’s attention popped out at him. “$1 MILLION PRIZE POOL - IS KILLCORE THE NEW ESPORTS MONEYMAKER?”

Immediately perking up, Alex tapped on the link, excitedly skimming the article as he stood from the bench. This is perfect! Ryland likes video games, and he’s pretty good at them, from what Alex could tell! And $1 million is a _lot_ of money!

The whole trek back to Ryland’s apartment, Alex skimmed various articles about Killcore, not focused enough to devote his entire attention to it but still wanting to learn as much as possible. His head was buzzing, the excitement of his discovery reinvigorating his tired mind.

Jamming his key into the sticky lock, Alex heard almost panicked rustling from behind the door as he forced it open.

“Hey,” he called, seeing Ryland practically dive onto the couch as he closed the door behind him. Ryland quickly unpaused the game on the TV, trying to hide how out of breath he was. Alex couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at his friend’s behavior.

“Hey,” Ryland replied, still fairly winded.

“What’d you do all day?” Alex asked, grabbing a beer from the mostly empty fridge. He may have wanted to stay sober for the research portion, but he couldn’t imagine having the coming conversation with all his insecurities at the forefront of his mind.

“Uhh, different stuff. Errands.”

“Errands?” Alex frowned, not having expected that. Ryland didn’t usually do errands.

“Yeah,” Ryland said, and Alex saw his friend glance over at him nervously, before quickly darting his eyes away.

“What kind of errands?” Shoving a hamper of ambiguously clean laundry to the side, Alex allowed himself to collapse onto the opposite loveseat, taking a swig from his beer.

“Post office,” Ryland blurted out quickly, flicking the joysticks aimlessly.

The laundry hamper was awkwardly squished into the corner, and Alex pushed it again, getting it out of the way. “Post office?”

“…Yeah.” Okay, Alex definitely heard Ryland hesitate on that one.

“You… went to the post office?” Alex frowned, looking at his roommate inquisitively. Was Ryland lying to him?

“Yeah.”

“For mail?”

“No, for ice. Yes, for mail.” Deliberately ignoring Ryland’s sarcastic, slightly mocking tone, Alex continued with his line of questioning, still not sure why Ryland was being so defensive. Sure, he was a closed-off, defensive guy, but this much was unusual.

“I usually just use the mailbox,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Are you writing a book about my day?” Suddenly it clicked for Alex, seeing the way Ryland kept glancing anxiously between him and the television.

“Did you spend it playing video games?” he asked, grinning slightly. This was the perfect segue!

“Yes!” Ryland shouted, tossing one arm up angrily.

“Good!” Jumping to his feet, Alex pointed excitedly at his roommate. “Don’t be ashamed. Because I saw something that’s gonna take your balls, blow ‘em out of your ass into a box of more balls.”

_Okay, that was dumb. Okay. It's fine. Whatever._ Overcome with adrenaline, Alex flopped down beside Ryland, lazily throwing an arm around his shoulders. Leaning back, Alex rested his feet on the coffee table, knocking over some empty bottles of beer and stacks of mail. “What do you think when I say the word ‘essports’?”

“I think the TV was in a bar, the volume was muted,” Ryland muttered, shifting awkwardly and reaching around his back to push Alex’s arm away, “and you’re trying to say ‘eSports.’”

“Yeah, I am, “ Alex said, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest when Ryland pushed him away. “There’s this game, uhhh…" _shit, what was it called?_ “Kill-something. Something-core.”

“Killcore.” Alex perked up, looking over at Ryland.

“You know it?”

“I pieced it together.” Ignoring the sarcasm dripping from Ryland's voice, Alex tried to maintain his optimistic outlook.

“Dude, Ryland, they have tournaments, man," Alex trailed off slightly, the alcohol starting to cloud his mind, "like, you can win a million dollars." Ryland seemed… profoundly uninterested, but Alex continued on. "They made a job out of doing the thing that not having a job used to look like!”

“It’s probably a MOBA," Ryland said, frowning and turning back to his game. Alex chuckled, grinning.

“It goes without fucking saying, man.” Only a few seconds later, however, his thoughts caught up with him through the foggy haze blanketing his mind. “What’s a MOBA?”

“It’s five guys pressing four keys in a pattern against another five guys pressing the same four keys in another pattern.” Alex frowned, his brow furrowing at Ryland's mounting frustration. “This is something different. This is one guy…” A faux-celebratory chime sounded from the television, a poorly modeled watermelon popping up on the screen. Glancing over at Ryland, Alex saw his roommate's face fall. “…Slowly dying inside.” 

“Dude, you really know your shit," Alex said, discarding the sadness that bubbled up in his chest as Ryland casually discounted himself. Realizing that this was an actual thing that was happening, Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket, grinning. “I’m gonna Google this, but I’m gonna need 110% from you.”

“Of what?” Ryland asked, raising an eyebrow at Alex as he glanced at him sidelong.

“That’s what I’m Googling!" Alex was suddenly hit with a spike of hesitation, his smile taking on a twinge of nervousness. "You in or you out, Ryland?”

“Oh, I’m in, buddy." Even though Ryland didn't look away from his game, Alex couldn't help but brighten at his friend's support, even if it was tinged with a layer of sarcasm. “I support you.”

Reopening Google, Alex typed "best Killcore players near my apartment" into the search bar. As his thumb hovered over the 'enter' key, Alex hesitated for a moment, all too aware of the person beside him. Ryland had turned back to his game, giving off an air of indifference, and Alex could feel a familiar lump rise in his throat. _No, not now. Not this time,_ he thought, swallowing dryly.

He can't do this, can't get carried away by his thoughts. He had to stay focused. He had to.

Taking another swig from his beer, Alex set his jaw as he resumed his search with even more vigor. He could finally pay Ryland back. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

For Ryland.


	4. What I Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next few ones directly parallel chapters from [**It's Okay**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905683/chapters/52284916)! just a heads up if you haven't read that!

Alex jolted awake in a slight panic, hearing strange shuffling sounds behind the door he was leaning against. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, eyes darting around as he tried to remember where he was. His gaze landed on the opposing wall, the hairline crack running from floor to ceiling making him chuckle as he remembered when Ryland had tripped and plowed face-first into the wall, permanently chipping the cheap plaster.

Right. Ryland.

Once they had gotten back from the charity event, Alex had collapsed on the couch with a beer. He’d invited Ryland to hang out with him, but he remembers that the other man hadn’t replied, quickly retreating into his bedroom. Initially Alex thought nothing of it, assuming his friend was just tired or wanted to change out of his jeans or something, and Alex let himself sit back and float around aimlessly in a tired haze of alcohol and Vicodin.

After an unidentified amount of time, though, Alex had emerged from his trance to a spike of concern that rocketed him into awareness. Alex still had no idea what made him feel so worried, but he hadn’t been able to shake the anxiety off.

When he had gone to check on Ryland there’d been no response, and that certainly didn’t reassure his tired and drunken mind. The rest of the night was a bit of a foggy blur in his mind, but Alex distinctly remembered the sickening pit of guilt that still sat heavily in his gut, a flurry of apologies resting bitterly on his tongue.

More shuffling came from behind the door, this time accompanied by a tired half-groan.

_Oh, shit._

Scrambling to his feet as quietly as he could, Alex had to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain. His chest felt like it was on fire, ribs aching and lungs burning painfully. Stumbling away from Ryland’s bedroom, Alex finally registered a familiar constricting feeling on his chest.

Oh. His binder was still on.

_Fuck._

Staggering into the main room of the apartment, Alex collapsed head up on the couch, face contorted into a grimace from the agony pulsing through his chest. Laying his head back, Alex exhaled shakily, fighting to breathe through his burning lungs.

More sounds came from the hallway, indicating that Ryland was getting up. Alex slowly counted down from ten, willing his chest to stop pulsing with searing pain, to no avail. Wincing at another spike of hurt as he forced himself into a lazy sitting position, Alex reached for his bong still on the coffee table, for once glad that he hadn't bothered to clean it out.

It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, almost hurt to _think_ , but Alex forced his way through it, turning to weed in hopes of quelling the fire in his chest. After his third successive hit the pain had faded to a faint ache, and Alex let his head loll back onto the arm of the couch in relief. He couldn’t be bothered to move his bong, letting it lay haphazardly on his lap.

Basking in the relief from the dissipation of the searing agony, Alex let his mind drift off in a haze of foggy relief. The weed dulled his senses and thoughts, but a powerful feeling of guilt soon cut through the relaxing cloud that had blanketed him, driving it off in favor of the gut-wrenching feeling of failure.

Last night was… not what he expected, to say the least. After the mess that was the charity event Alex wanted nothing more than to drown his guilt in copious amounts of beer, and he asked Ryland to join him in the hope that the incident could just be forgotten.

They'd moved past the argument much too quickly, Alex knew that. They'd been distracted, more important things were happening, everything kept moving and they got swept up in the flow. Alex knew they should talk about it, knew they _had to_ , but his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of that conversation. Alex trusted Ryland — and he hoped Ryland trusted him too — but that didn’t stop his anxieties from going nuts.

Is Ryland still mad at him? He didn’t respond when Alex tried to talk to him last night — does he not want Alex around anymore? This could be it — after an entire year, this could be what finally gets Alex kicked out. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, couldn’t just behave for _once_.

He’d deserve it, honestly. Ryland had been hesitant to get involved with esports, Alex _knew_ he was, and Alex went through with it anyway. He humiliated Ryland, dragged his history back to the surface after Ryland had spent so long trying to bury that part of his life. Alex should’ve been more careful, should’ve paid closer attention to Ryland. Now Ryland was a laughing stock _again_ , and it’s all Alex’s fault.

Really, though, what did he expect? One would think Alex would’ve learned after _so many years_ of screwing things up. His dad, his band, and now Ryland. Alex could never maintain a relationship with anyone — that just means he doesn’t deserve to be around people, right? That’s the only explanation he could think of.

It all makes sense, honestly. How else would people react to someone whose entire life was an elaborate lie? He wasn’t who he said he was. He lies to everyone he meets. Ryland didn’t even have to find out about how fake Alex was to start hating him, though. Alex was just that unlikeable.

His dad was right.

The click of a door opening yanked Alex out of his trance, making him jolt in shock. Cringing at the spike of pain the movement sent through his ribs, Alex hurriedly wiped his eyes — _since when had he been crying?_ — and tried to stabilize his unsteady breathing. Plastering a faux-relaxed expression on his face, Alex tried to emulate what people said he looked like stoned, forcing his emotions back down.

Ryland trudged out from the hallway, pausing for a moment before sitting on the loveseat opposite Alex. As soon as his gaze landed on his friend, Alex's face broke out in a genuinely fond smile, his mood improving just from seeing Ryland with a small, hesitant smile.

When did Alex let himself get so attached to this man?

"Hey buddy," Alex said, resting the side of his head on the arm of the sofa. Ryland nodded and rubbed his face, appearing somewhat distressed, or at least conflicted. Alex's brow furrowed, his face contorting into a worried frown.

"Hey…" Ryland began, trailing off for a moment. Fidgeting with his tattered sleeve, Ryland stubbornly kept his gaze angled downwards, and Alex couldn't tell if he was angry or not. "…Thanks for yesterday, man."

"Yesterday?" Alex asked, fighting to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He couldn't tell if his friend was being sarcastic or not. A million different possibilities for what Ryland meant rushed through his head, almost every one concluding with _Ryland's mad at me._

"Yeah, with the whole… esports thing." Alex's heart plummeted as he fought the urge to blurt out every apology he could think of. "It's a good idea."

Alex's mind froze, eyes widening. Ryland wasn't mad at him? Ryland… thought it was a good idea? _Ryland wasn't mad at him?_

"We might actually, like… do well, or something." Alex couldn't fight the grin spreading across his face, all of his worries alleviated by a single sentence. "You're gonna be a good coach."

Ryland finally glanced up at Alex, relief flooding his expression. Alex felt elation bubble up in his chest alongside a relief of his own as he shifted himself into a sitting position, resting his bong on the coffee table.

"Aw, I'm glad you came around, Ryland!" Alex said, masking his emotions behind his relaxed façade out of pure habit. Rocketing to his feet, Alex crossed the distance between the two of them in mere seconds, settling in beside Ryland with an arm draped across the other's shoulders.

Alex let himself go on autopilot, spouting whatever airy nonsense would fit the situation as he tried to collect himself. Upon realizing that he was tearing up, he quickly leaned over to hug Ryland, burying his face in Ryland's shoulder as he did.

Alex felt Ryland stiffen, noticed him lean away from the embrace, and was immediately struck by guilt. Despite knowing about Ryland's discomfort with physical affection, Alex couldn't bring himself to pull away, not fully. He felt badly for putting Ryland through this, but Alex couldn't let him see how emotional he had gotten. Plus, the pain in his chest combined with his stoned mind was enough to convince Alex to just take the comfort wherever he could get it.

Settling for just laying across Ryland's lap, his arms not ensnaring the other man anymore, Alex allowed himself to enjoy the contact for as long as it would last. Ryland was strangely silent, not objecting to Alex's behavior or pushing him away like he usually would.

The moment lasted much longer than Alex had anticipated, a comforting silence enveloping the apartment. It did end eventually, though, with Ryland standing up awkwardly, allowing Alex to slide off of him and fully onto the loveseat.

Alex had to bite back another cry of pain, the burning in his chest returning with a vengeance at the sudden shift. He jolted into a sitting position, pulling out his phone in an attempt to find some sort of relief.

Ryland had entered the still-barren kitchenette, rooting around in the cupboards for a box of cereal. Alex watched him absently, noticing how Ryland rubbed his sleeve emptily, and he was hit with a wave of compassion and sympathy for his roommate. Before he could dwell on that for too long, however, his chest pain made itself known again, a groan slipping out of his mouth involuntarily.

"Ugh, man, I did _not_ sleep right last night," Alex blurted out, bolting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head dramatically. "My back is _killing me!_ " While he had only intended for the statement to be a cover for the fire in his lungs, Alex's back really was sore, and the performative stretch did relieve some of the tension in his spine.

Before Ryland could question him, Alex took off towards the inner part of the apartment, darting into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He quickly tugged off his jacket and t-shirt, tossing them to the floor haphazardly.

Grabbing the hem of his binder, Alex tried to carefully pull it over his head, wincing as the motion provoked his injured ribs. After a solid minute of struggling and swallowed yelps of pain Alex finally managed to pull the garment over his head, discarding it in the same pile as his other tops.

As he breathed deeply in an attempt to soothe his still hurting chest, Alex's reflection caught his eye. Alex swore that the mirror was sneering at him, taunting his pitiful attempts to fix his fuck up.

Look how _pathetic_.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex tore his gaze away from the glass, reaching beneath the sink for his spare sports bra. He hardly ever wore it, this one being a size larger than his others, but it was good for emergencies. Like this.

Pulling his shirt on over the bra, Alex turned back towards the mirror against his better judgement. His chest was too curved… too accentuated. Alex felt disgusted looking at himself.

His makeup from the previous night had been mostly rubbed off through the events of the past 24 hours, exposing the roundness of his face and softness of his features. He was so thin and bony that his chest stood out all the more, and Alex could barely stand looking at himself.

Rubbing his chin, Alex felt the still barely visible stubble growing along his (too rounded, too _feminine_ ) jaw, frowning. He’d been on hormones on and off for a little over a year now, taking breaks whenever he didn’t have the money, and he still hardly noticed a difference.

Well, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. His voice had dropped noticeably, and for that he was grateful. But physically? All he had to show for it was some pathetic, gross stubble and other hair in places he didn’t want it.

Yet he still spent a veritable fortune every month he could afford it, putting it towards his attempt to transition instead of something helpful. They could hardly afford rent, and Alex was blowing any income he could scrounge up on _this_ of all things.

It's incredible that Ryland hadn't found him out yet. Considering how shitty Alex was at passing and how careless he was with his things, Ryland should have figured him out in the first few months. Maybe it would be better if he had; then Alex wouldn't have had time to get attached.

Now, though, there was nothing he could do. Ryland may not know yet, may not be kicking him out _yet,_ but it was only a matter of time until he did. When Ryland finds out, he'll never forgive Alex for lying to him for so long. He'll finally get sick of having him around, and Alex will be back on the streets after all this time.

He'll be on his own again.

"Alex?" Breath hitching in surprise, Alex sniffled quietly, hoping Ryland couldn't hear him through the door.

"Yeah?" Alex called back, cringing at his wavering voice, supplemented by a pitiful voice crack.

"You… you okay?" Alex bit his lip nervously, unsure how to respond. He didn't really want to lie to Ryland again, but he _definitely_ wasn't going to tell him the truth. If he did try to lie, Ryland would probably figure him out anyways, since his voice was all over the place.

"You've, uh, been in there a while…" Ryland continued after a moment, "you need-"

"No!" Alex yelped, his voice cracking again. Coughing quickly, he began scrambling around the bathroom, trying to make himself look like he wasn't crying in front of a mirror. "No, I'm good! I'll, uh — I'll be out in a sec!" Flushing the toilet to hide his desperate fumbling, Alex grabbed his discarded binder and jacket, hiding the binder in his garish outer shirt.

Inhaling deeply, Alex checked his face one more time, hiding his puffy eyes to the best of his ability. Throwing the bathroom door open he tried to appear casual as he entered the apartment's hallway.

Ryland was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. He turned to look at Alex as soon as he left the bathroom, and Alex easily recognized the concern written plainly on his roommate's face.

Alex froze, his veins filling with ice. _Look what you did,_ he found himself thinking, _you made Ryland worry. You're supposed to make things easier for him, you're supposed to **help**! He's got enough to worry about without you dragging him down!_

Blinking back more tears — _jeez, he sure is emotional today,_ — Alex forced himself to smile. It was far from his best — once his façade began to chip it was much harder to keep up appearances — and Ryland's frown only deepened in response.

Alex noticed Ryland's hand twitch slightly, his friend's expression turning hesitant. Before he could question it, however, Ryland seemed to make up his mind, clapping a hand on Alex's shoulder heavily. Alex jumped slightly, caught off guard, and looked back to Ryland in search of an explanation. Ryland just smiled awkwardly, squeezing Alex's shoulder in a somewhat reassuring manner.

Alex was stunned, his smile slowly brightening as he realized that Ryland was trying to comfort him. Ryland's expression softened when Alex's grin became genuine, a small smile of his own blossoming on his face. Giving Alex's shoulder a final, gentle squeeze, Ryland pulled away, quickly ducking into the now-vacant bathroom.

Alex chuckled to himself, brushing a clump of hair out of his face. Ryland's attempt at being comforting despite his typically distant nature meant more than Alex could express. It showed him that Ryland truly _did_ care, despite what his insecurities would claim.

Making his way back to the sofa, Alex splayed out dramatically after tucking his binder safely away in his backpack. His chest still ached painfully, the gentler compression of his sports bra further aggravating the damage his binder had done. Alex really shouldn't be wearing anything that restricted his chest after wearing his binder for so long, but the thought of not binding whatsoever made his skin crawl.

Letting his gaze drift to the coffee table, Alex noticed a bottle of water and two tablets of ibuprofen that he didn't remember being there when he got up. Forcing himself into a sitting position, Alex grabbed the items, looking at them carefully. The water was still cool from the fridge, so he couldn't have just left it and forgotten about it. It was unopened, so it wasn't Ryland's. That only left one explanation — Ryland had put them out for _Alex._

As far as Ryland knew, Alex just had a sore back and maybe a hangover — nothing too out of the ordinary for him. Despite that, Ryland had still gone out of his way to make sure Alex was as comfortable as he could be. He cared enough to help Alex feel better.

Ryland _actually cared._

Clearing his throat, Alex fought against the urge to sniffle again. He was _not_ going to get emotional over a couple aspirins.

Knocking back the tablets, Alex sighed in relief as they took effect, relieving the fire in his lungs. What did he do to deserve someone like Ryland, honestly?

Clenching his jaw, Alex listened to the sounds of Ryland getting ready, remembering the events of last night. If Alex hadn't made up his mind about pulling his own weight before, this would have decided for him. Alex doesn't deserve Ryland, not in the least, so he's gonna have to do his best to make up for it. He has to.

It's what Ryland deserves.


	5. All That I Need

"Sam's gettin' discharged today, 'n Ash says she's gonna help her relax more. I was thinkin' we could maybe do some more stuff as a team. Try 'n bond a little more, y'know?"

As Alex very carefully drew on his eyebrows he continued to ramble aimlessly, not keeping track of what came out of his mouth. What he said didn't matter, as long as Ryland could hear him.

The two men had a routine, carefully crafted over the months they'd lived together. Everyone had secrets, things they'd rather keep hidden, and neither one of them was an exception. Alex and Ryland both respected each other's privacy, leaving their personal items and habits alone.

Although he did worry about Ryland at times, Alex was largely glad that his friend offered him the space and privacy that he did. The last thing Alex wanted was to explain why he needed to lock himself in the bathroom for a half-hour every morning.

The rambling was Alex's way of offering Ryland a similar courtesy. This way, Alex couldn't surprise Ryland by appearing unexpectedly; Ryland was always aware of where Alex was relative to himself. It may not be much, but it was an extra step Alex made sure to take, hopefully for Ryland's continued comfort.

Clicking the cap back onto his eyebrow pencil, Alex examined his reflection as he packed up his things. Today was an especially bad dysphoria day, so he was wearing the baggiest, most formless clothes he owned; an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of slightly-too-long cargo pants. He was trying to avoid binding for too long after the overnight incident, so he forced himself to make do with his sports bra on days when the team didn't have practice.

Altogether, the image in the mirror looked like a complete and utter mess, and Alex's throat grew drier the longer he stared at it.

Swallowing thickly, Alex tore his gaze away from his reflection, gathering his things and leaving the bathroom in a hurry. Knocking on the wall beside Ryland's bedroom door, he called out to Ryland as he passed by on his way to the main room. Tucking his discarded clothing into the duffel which served as his dresser, Alex stretched his arms over his head, groaning in satisfaction as his joints popped loudly.

Shaking his hair out, Alex glanced back towards the hallway, not having heard any of the movement he'd expected. A slight smile spreading across his face, Alex made his way back to the entrance of Ryland's room, knocking on the wall a second time.

"C'mon Ry, you gotta get up!"

Still no reply, not even a tired grumble like Alex had expected. Worry overtook amusement, gripping Alex's chest like a vice. Knocking once more, he tried to keep his thoughts under control.

"Ry?" he called, forcing the panic out of his voice, "I said I'm done; bathroom's free now." As the silence stretched on, Alex felt his heart plunge. Ryland wouldn't have left him, would he? He was in his room the last Alex saw him, but now he wasn't answering. Could he have fallen asleep? He hadn't been sleeping well for the past few weeks. But Ryland was a light sleeper, so he would have woken up to Alex's knocking, right?

Biting his lip anxiously, Alex knocked a fourth time, shifting his weight between his legs idly. He resisted the urge to push on the slightly open door, stopping himself from barging into Ryland's room. The crack wasn't wide enough for Alex to see inside the gloomy darkness of the room, but it did allow a small, pitiful sound to escape.

Alex felt his pulse quicken at the nearly inaudible whimper. It was Ryland, it had to be, and that was what had him worried. Ryland didn't _whimper_ — Alex had never heard anything of the sort in the time they'd spent together.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Ryland?" Alex called again, listening carefully for any further sounds. He was met with another quiet whine, accompanied by panicked, shallow breathing that he hadn't noticed before. "Rylie, what's wrong?" Tense silence dragged on for a few nerve-wracking seconds, only broken by a small, hesitant mumble from inside the darkened room.

Alex frowned nervously, growing increasingly worried about his friend. Ryland was in his room, having a panic attack as far as Alex could tell. What happened? Was it something he said? He’d just been aimlessly chattering, he might have said something that triggered Ryland…

Shaking his head, Alex took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. He may not have much experience handling situations like this, but he knew some things; he’d just have to do his best. Alex knocked on the door again, hoping to get Ryland’s attention. After hearing a slight hitch in the shallow breathing, Alex cleared his throat, organizing his chaotic thoughts.

"Ryland, listen to me,” he began, willing his voice to remain steady. “I'm right out here." Ryland’s panicked breathing halted for a moment, evening out ever so slightly before quickening even further.

"Just focus on me, Ry. Listen to me.” Alex strained his ears to keep listening to the faint sounds coming from the room, wringing his hands nervously. “I'm right here.” He had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed to be working, at least a little? Hopefully? “I'm right here with you."

Ryland’s breathing seemed to continuously stutter, slowly evening out. Alex just continued to talk, murmuring words of reassurance while standing outside of the room.

As the minutes ticked on, Alex found himself at a loss for words. Completely unsure what to say or do, Alex felt the panic he'd been suppressing slowly begin to creep back into the edges of his consciousness.

Shoving his worries back down, Alex began to hum quietly, mind latching onto a familiar, calming tune he remembered from his days with his mother. He eventually lost track of himself, just humming gently, soothing both himself and, hopefully, Ryland as well.

After a while, Alex heard a small, abridged groan from Ryland's room. Abruptly pausing his aimless song, Alex waited with bated breath, listening for the tell-tale sound of Ryland's breathing. The other man no longer sounded like he was suffocating, his breaths much calmer and more regulated, and Alex couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when he heard Ryland clear his throat from behind the door.

Shuffling his feet nervously, Alex found himself at a loss once more. Ryland was probably still on edge, and knowing that Alex had heard him freak out definitely didn't help matters.

"…Hey, Ry?" Alex began, his voice wavering slightly with uncertainty. He found himself holding his breath inadvertently, worry in regards to how Ryland would respond filling his head.

"Yeah?" Ryland replied, his own voice scratchy and weak. Alex hesitated, a thousand possibilities running through his mind, struggling to settle on any one option.

"Bathroom's free," he said after a few beats of hesitation, turning away from the door. Loathe as he was to leave Ryland after what happened, Alex knew that crowding his friend would only make things worse. He needed to give him space.

Careful to make his footfalls clearly audible, Alex made his way back to the apartment's main room, throwing himself onto the couch exaggeratedly. He made sure he was facing away from the hallway so Ryland didn't feel like he was being watched.

Anxiously fiddling with his hands, Alex frowned, chewing on his lip in thought. Ryland was even more reserved about his past than Alex was, and yet Alex had inadvertently learned so much of it over the past few months.

Alex knew that if he was the one whose vulnerabilities had been exposed against his will he would practically be freaking out, not even able to imagine it without shuddering. He couldn't even begin to fathom how Ryland must feel, seeing as Ryland didn't even like to share his _positive_ feelings, much less his negative ones.

The question is, what could Alex do about it?

It's not like he could just forget. Even if he tried to, the effort would probably just make Ryland feel worse, as if his vulnerable side is so horrible Alex didn't even want to acknowledge it. No, brushing past this wasn't an option, regardless of how much easier it would be.

Alex heard the bathroom door open and close, the hinges squeaking as they had ever since Alex moved in. Maybe he could return the favor? It wouldn't absolve the uncertainty and fear Ryland was no doubt feeling, but it could make it less extreme. He wouldn't have to go in detail; just give Ryland the same glimpse into his past that Alex just got of Ryland's.

_An eye for an eye,_ Alex thought, remembering hearing that phrase when he was younger. _Wait, isn't that a bad thing? Whatever._ Shaking his head, Alex cleared his throat again, willing his voice to be steady.

"Y'know, I met a lot of weird people before I moved in with you," Alex began, hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Ambient rustling from the bathroom served as a backdrop for Alex's pointless rambling. "Tons of weirdos. I mean, we were pretty much all homeless stoners, but still."

Sighing, Alex stopped himself. This wasn't going anywhere. No use dancing around the subject — Alex could deflect from the point forever if he had to. He just had to get it over with. Like ripping off a band-aid.

"I used to be in a band," Alex blurted out, his eyes screwed shut. The sounds from the bathroom halted abruptly, the only noise in the apartment coming from the frantic pounding of Alex's heart.

After a moment, Alex heard the sound of running water from further inside the apartment, ambient noise returning. Taking a few deep breaths, Alex forced his mind to settle, continuing what he started.

"We never really… went anywhere." The sink had since been shut off, Alex having waited to make sure Ryland could hear him. "I mean, obviously. We didn't exactly agree on…"

Trailing off, Alex frowned. Didn't agree on _what?_ The obvious answer was _Alex;_ his bandmates didn't take his coming out well, to say the least. He couldn't say that, though, for obvious reasons. While he did want to open up to Ryland, coming out to him was out of the question.

Alex wasn't aiming to get kicked out again.

"…the direction we wanted the group to go," he finally said, not wanting the silence to stretch out for too long. "My bandmates wanted me to be… someone else, and I couldn't do that." Alex knew that was vague as hell, but he couldn't think of another way to word it. _Yeah, my supposed friends wanted me to be some big titty rock singer lady and got pissed when I told them I wasn't. Oh, and I'm trans, by the way._ Yeah, like that'd go over well.

Thinking about his former bandmates, Alex had to swallow the lump that appeared in his throat. He had really believed they were his friends… and yet…

"They kicked me out a few years before we met." Blinking deliberately, Alex focused on keeping his breathing even and steady. He hadn't anticipated how much this would get to him.

The wound was fresher than he thought it was.

The bathroom door creaked again, Ryland clearly trying to open it as quietly as he could. Alex pulled out his phone, desperate for something to occupy his mind, to keep him from falling to pieces again.

Upon hearing Ryland's heavy footsteps enter the room, Alex turned to flash Ryland a bright smile. It was a little strained, worry poking at the edges of his expression, but all that melted away the moment Ryland returned the gesture with a tired smile of his own.

Ryland wasn't the most expressive person, so it was easy to tell what was genuine and what wasn't, especially once you've been around him for a while. Ryland wasn't the best at faking his emotions.

Alex was positive that the half-smile tinged with exhaustion that Ryland bore was 100% sincere.

As Ryland sat down at his computer to get in some early Killcore practice, Alex allowed his mind to wander. The relationship he formed with Ryland was unlike anything Alex had ever experienced before, and every second of it was absolutely _exhilarating._

To anyone who saw them, the two were like oil and water: polar opposites. Alex had felt that way too, at first; he was certain that Ryland would be perpetually annoyed with him until he kicked Alex out. It came as a surprise to both of them, then, when they reached month 3 of living together and neither one detested the other.

Alex had never known someone quite like Ryland. Sure, he'd met his fair share of grumps, but there was so much more to Ryland than just "some angry dude." The man was nothing if not multifaceted, continuously finding new ways to surprise Alex, to keep him on his toes. Every time Alex thought he had his roommate figured out, Ryland would bust out something new, the man equally baffling and captivating at the same time.

Alex was used to being the surprising factor in his relationships, so this was an interesting change of pace.

That being said, however, Alex feels like he knows Ryland. Like, really knows him, knows what makes him tick. He doesn't claim to have the other man all figured out, but there was something special between the two, a bond unlike anything Alex had ever experienced. From the moment he met him, Alex felt drawn to Ryland, like he'd met him somewhere before.

That tug was what led his drunken self to talk to Ryland and, given what that choice had led to, Alex was inclined to give it some merit.

Glancing up, Alex watched as Ryland expertly navigated the keyboard, fingers flying across the surface as he played. A lot had happened this morning; no doubt Ryland still carried some unease in his gut. Alex certainly still had a pit of anxiety rolling around in his own stomach.

As he brainstormed possible ways to shift the mood of the apartment to something more positive, Alex was hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia. When he was younger, back before his mom died, they'd always make pancakes whenever he was upset. Something about the buttery, sweet, and doughy flavor always made all of Alex's worries fade away. Smiling, Alex felt warmth spread across his chest at the memory.

They ate a lot of pancakes when he was little.

Thumbing through the nearby restaurants on his phone, Alex found a quiet-looking diner place that had recently opened not too far from the apartment. _Perfect!_

Looking over, Alex saw that the match Ryland was playing was just about finished, the sight of Ryland's character destroying the enemy core all too familiar. Taking a quick breath, Alex strode over to the table none too quickly, pulling out a chair and scooting in next to Ryland. He hoped his grin didn't look too nervous, fiddling with his hands as he beat back the anxious thoughts berating him for bothering Ryland.

"There's this really cool lookin' diner place that just opened real close by," he said once Ryland turned to face him, "I was thinkin' maybe we could go check it out?" Alex struggled to get the words out, his nerves making him stumble over every other syllable.

Ryland frowned slightly and Alex, realizing what the other was worried about, waved his hands a bit too frantically, quick to reassure him.

"I looked on their website; they do takeout! Kinda strange for a diner, but it's pretty convenient!" Alex let out a series of giggles, his anxiety fading beneath budding excitement. "Plus, with all the stuff that's been happening with the team lately, I know I could use some comfort food, and nothin's more 'comfort food'-y than pancakes!"

Ryland snorted at that, and Alex couldn't stop his face from lighting up at his friend's happiness, no matter how slight it was. Ryland appeared to contemplate the offer, but he replied before Alex could get trapped in his own anxieties.

"Yeah, that sounds alright," he said, shutting down the computer. The remaining nerves Alex had been carrying in his chest fell away, relief and excitement overtaking him.

As they both gathered their things, Ryland opting to drive them, Alex began aimlessly chattering once more, his mouth working on autopilot. Various pancake-related stories filled the silence, the tense energy from before evaporating.

Alex's mind was as busy as ever, a menagerie of emotions circling each other in a dizzying whirlwind. Worry was eclipsed by relief and fear overtaken by relaxation, his feelings battling one another for dominance. Ultimately, affection and comfort won out, filling Alex’s head with the warm fuzzy feeling he’d come to associate with Ryland.

As he followed Ryland out the front door, Alex noticed the thick, long-sleeved sweater the other was wearing in spite of the summer heat. He deliberately avoided looking at it for too long, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He had a pretty good idea why Ryland wore shirts like this so often, but it’s not like he was in any position to judge, his baggy sweatshirt hanging loosely from his lithe frame.

Sliding into the passenger seat of Ryland’s car, Alex input the address for the diner into his phone’s GPS, placing it on the center console so Ryland could see the directions. As they pulled out of the apartment building’s pitiful excuse for a parking lot, Ryland turned on the radio, the ending notes of some classic rock song playing through the shitty speakers.

Alex gazed aimlessly out the passenger window, watching the suburban landscape roll by. A familiar guitar riff faded in as Alex’s eyes glazed over, attention turning from the scenery outside to his inner thoughts.

_Welcome to your life_   
_There’s no turning back_

The distinctive sound of Tears for Fears filling the car, Alex thought about his old bandmates. He sang this song a lot with them, it being one of the main crowd-pleasers in the back alley bars they used to play. Before he came out, his bandmates had seemed so invested in the band, in fulfilling the dream he’d had since he was little. They couldn’t have been _too_ invested, though. All it took was one change, one bump in the road, and they’d ditched him with no hesitation.

 _It’s my own desire_  
 _It’s my own remorse_

Even when he said he’d forego HRT for as long as they wanted him so they could maintain the sound they had, they still said it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t worth it to ‘follow some deluded dipshit around while she denies science and logic,’ as they had so succinctly put it.

His gaze turning back to the window, Alex heard the words of his ex-friends ringing in his ears, layered beneath the all-too-familiar lyrics.

_Help me to decide_  
 _Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure_  
 _Nothing ever lasts forever_  
 _Everybody wants to rule the world_

“Is it just me, or did we _just_ pass a Taco Bell, like, two blocks back?” Ryland asked, “Why is there another one _right here?_ ” Ryland pointed through the windshield as the car paused at an intersection, glancing over at Alex. Alex snapped out of his reminiscence, blinking as he turned to look at what he was pointing at. Sure enough, there was a Taco Bell on the corner ahead of them, and a quick glance into the rearview mirror revealed a large sign advertising their “Beefy Fritos® Burrito™” a few blocks back.

"They’ve gotta make sure you’re never too far from one," Alex replied, laughing quietly. “Otherwise nobody would buy their ‘Beefy Fritos registered-trademark Burrito trademark.’” Ryland chuckled slightly at his sarcastic tone, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in a genuine expression of mirth.

Even as the car started moving again, Alex found himself continuing to watch Ryland as he stared focused out the windshield, his relaxed gaze almost mesmerizing.

_There's a room where the light won't find you_  
 _Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_  
 _When they do, I'll be right behind you_

It'd been a long time since his band ditched him, and Alex hadn't let himself listen to any of the music they used to play since then. The songs were tethered to the feelings of betrayal and loneliness that haunted him, and Alex wanted nothing to do with it.

But as Ryland pulled into the small diner parking lot, Alex noticed the absence of the familiar heartache he'd come to associate with this song.

_So glad we've almost made it_  
 _So sad we had to fade it_

Smiling at Ryland, Alex felt like a metaphorical weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His time with the band was in the past, and it was time for him to let go of it, to move on.

Taking a deep breath, Alex closed his eyes, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he exhaled. Stepping out of the car Alex let himself relax, releasing the tension he'd been carrying for so long.

As he made his way to the restaurant, side by side with Ryland, he hummed the last few notes to the song under his breath.

It was time to make some new memories.

_Everybody wants to rule the world._


	6. Has Already Come True

Alex crashed through the stairwell door, muttering an assortment of swears under his breath. He paid no mind to the confused calls of his teammates; they didn't matter right now.

Right now, he needed to find Ryland.

Hurrying down the flights of stairs, Alex mentally berated himself for having been so careless. Wandering off to get drinks — what was he thinking?!

Alex _knew_ that Ryland had a thing about heights. He'd seen how Ryland would avoid even the slightest drop, how he'd pointedly look away from even the second-floor balcony by their apartment — it was clear the man had some type of aversion to high places. But Alex was so caught up in the team's excitement, so lost in the energy and spirit, he completely forgot about his roommate's discomfort.

Tripping in his own haste, Alex barely managed to catch himself on the grimy railing before quickly righting himself. The look of pain and betrayal on Ryland's face was burned into his mind, fear buried beneath the easy cover of anger.

And, really, why wouldn't Ryland feel betrayed? Alex had stood by as their teammates teased Ryland over his discomfort, stood by as Ryland floundered to justify something he should never have had to. Alex just _watched_ , never saying a word, never even trying to defend his friend. And when Ryland looked to him for support, what had he done?

Nothing. He just watched, expressionless, as it all unfolded.

Alex couldn't really explain why he behaved that way, couldn't even fully remember what he was thinking as he did. He supposed it was just shock, or fear of his own; the others may not realize why Ryland was so afraid of the drop, but Alex recognized the longing look he had seen in the other man's eyes. He knew it wasn't just some passive phobia plaguing his friend.

Alex had seen his fair share of jumpers over the years.

Pausing on one of the landings, Alex braced his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. It probably wasn't good for him to do so much activity while binding, but his own health was the least of Alex's worries right now.

As he tried to catch his breath, Alex noticed the faint sound of uneven breathing, head perking up immediately. Looking around, Alex resisted the urge to call out to Ryland. As desperate as he was, he knew that would only hurt the situation at this point. Forcing himself to calm down, Alex slowly descended the next few flights of stairs, keeping an eye out for his friend.

Finally, Alex found him, two levels down. Ryland was curled up in a corner beneath the stairs, legs pulled up to his chest. He looked so small, so _fragile_ ; Alex's worried frown deepened when he noticed Ryland's shoulders were shaking, his face buried in his knees. The fingertips of one of his hands were crusted with drying blood, and Alex's heart ached for the other man.

Ryland didn't seem to notice Alex, and Alex found himself hesitating, biting his lip nervously. How should he handle this? Normally he'd give Ryland space, offer support from a distance, but there wasn't any barrier between them here, no door to make Ryland feel protected.

Alex was completely and utterly lost. The two of them had put months into developing a system, a way for the two of them to handle these situations, but nothing could have prepared Alex for this. There was no plan for this.

He'd just have to wing it.

Inhaling deeply, Alex clenched his fist, taking a step forward. He schooled his expression into a less intense one, putting years of experience in masking his emotions to good use.

One of them had to be composed, and Ryland was in no shape to do so now.

"Rylie?" Alex called, the nickname slipping out before he could catch himself. Ryland's head snapped up at the sound of Alex's voice, and Alex's concern only deepened. Ryland's face was streaked with drying tears, his eyes hazy and unfocused. Alex watched as Ryland slowly gathered his bearings, gaze zeroing in on Alex's face.

"Alex…" Ryland muttered, his voice cracked and quiet with disuse. He let out a dry chuckle immediately after, tinged with self-deprecating bitterness.

Alex swore that the pounding of his heart _must_ have been audible as he slowly approached Ryland, wordlessly sliding down the wall to sit beside him. He waited in silence, giving Ryland time to decide what to do, not wanting to rush him.

Ryland just stared at the ground in front of them, focusing intensely. The two stayed like that for a while, no sound in the empty stairwell other than the sound of their breathing, until a strange, strangled sob broke the air.

Alex glanced over only to see Ryland quickly break into silent sobs, hot tears cascading down his face. Ryland was usually stubbornly composed when it came to expressions of emotion, but the relentless bombardment from the past few weeks seemed to have finally caught up to him.

It took everything Alex had to keep himself from attempting to comfort Ryland; Alex knew his friend needed to work through this one on his own.

As Ryland's sobbing faded into quiet sniffles, Alex was once again faced with the expectant silence of the stairwell. Inhaling as discreetly as he could manage, Alex trained his eyes on the opposing wall, idly tracing the grooves in the aging plaster. Exhaling shakily, he closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders, and spoke.

"Fears are weird, dude," he began, keeping his voice steady and even. "Like, y'never really know what's gonna turn into one of 'em." Pausing to keep himself composed, Alex heard Ryland exhale audibly, choosing to take that as a good sign.

"One day you decide to dress a little different than usual and, before you know it," Alex opened his eyes, staring emptily ahead, "all of your friends have deserted you, your dad won't answer your calls, and you're living on the streets with an expensive alcohol addiction and a debilitating fear of abandonment." He tacked a hollow chuckle onto the end of his tirade, hoping the anxiety he felt wasn't as obvious as it was to him.

Ryland huffed again, his breath still shaky, and Alex just focused on keeping his gaze level. His chest felt tight, the familiar pressure of his binder amplified by his own anxieties. Alex felt more aware of his makeup than he could ever remember being, the powder and cream feeling like a mask of deceit layered heavily on his face.

Despite his mounting anxiety, though, Alex felt confident that he'd made the right choice. Ryland had been forced into such a vulnerable situation; Alex owed it to him to return the favor. If Ryland was ever going to trust Alex with his insecurities, Alex would have to trust him in return.

He just hoped that trust wouldn't turn out to be misplaced.

"I…" Alex blinked, snapping out of his miniature spiral, and turned to look at the man beside him. "I'm not afraid," Ryland muttered, blood encrusted fingertips tracing the scratchy fabric of his sleeve. "Of falling, I mean. Maybe I'm a little scared of… heights. But not falling."

Ryland glanced at Alex out of the corner of his eye, and Alex made certain that his expression was as open and nonjudgmental as possible. Ryland appeared to take it well, taking a shaky breath and returning his gaze to the floor before continuing.

"What scares me is how… how easy it is," he said, and Alex was filled with the bittersweet feeling of affirmation. "It'd only take one step, y'know? I'm not scared of falling off, I…" Ryland swallowed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. Alex already had an idea as to what was coming.

"I'm scared that I'll jump."

Ryland practically froze after the statement, his entire body tense as his words hung in the air. Alex could tell how significant this was for Ryland; laying the statement out there to be judged by the world.

To be judged by _Alex._

He didn't want to say the wrong thing, so Alex opted to remain silent, the atmosphere thick and heavy. He waited for Ryland to make the first move and, when Ryland eventually glanced over at him, Alex offered him a soft, accepting smile.

Alex thought he was prepared for whatever would happen next, but he was genuinely caught off guard when Ryland shuffled over to lean against him. Blinking in surprise, Alex carefully wrapped his arms around the other man, rubbing his back in a hopefully soothing motion. The entire time Alex waited for Ryland to pull away, abruptly ending the embrace, but Ryland seemed willing to let Alex comfort him without objection.

Smiling softly, Alex wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or not. On the one hand, Ryland showing so much genuine emotion and trust meant more than Alex could even begin to explain, and he treasured the gesture greatly. But it was a bittersweet feeling. Ryland seemed so sad and vulnerable, especially if he was being so open about his feelings, and Alex’s heart ached for him.

When they finally separated, Alex had to bite back a noise of disappointment as he pulled away. He wanted nothing more than to keep hold of the other man, but he didn’t want to overdo it. Alex couldn’t risk driving Ryland away or making him uncomfortable, especially after all that had just happened.

Clambering to his feet, Alex extended a hand to help Ryland up, pleasantly surprised by his companion's grateful acceptance of the offer.

“You wanna bail?” Alex asked, tilting his head slightly. Ryland seemed to be distracted for a moment before he grimaced, and Alex gently squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. “We can go home and watch a movie or something.”

“Nah,” Ryland said, shaking his head with a sigh. “That’ll just make the others be more weird about it.” Alex frowned, not able to dispute him. Ryland’s brow seemed to furrow, his gaze growing distant and conflicted.

Squeezing Ryland’s hand another time, Alex smiled gently at him. Ryland’s tense expression softened, and he offered Alex another grateful glance. The two of them made their way back up to their roof, hands still linked.

Alex paused at the top of the stairs, looking over at Ryland. He squeezed Ryland’s hand again, posing an unspoken question to his companion. Ryland inhaled shakily, closing his eyes and squeezing Alex’s hand in return. After a tense second Ryland nodded, and the two of them opened the doors in tandem.

As they stepped out into the open air, Alex felt Ryland’s hand tighten around his own. Alex could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of Ryland, and his friend’s breathing began to stutter as they approached the rest of the team.

Gently rubbing his thumb over the back of Ryland’s hand, Alex tried to subtly reassure Ryland, comforting him the best he could. As Ryland’s eyes slipped shut Alex couldn't help but smile, Ryland's breathing carefully evening out.

Sam was the first to notice the pair's reappearance, catching a glimpse of them while she was laughing at something Ash had said. She stopped laughing immediately, pointing at the two and crying out, getting the attention of the rest of the team.

Sam and Lorenzo rushed over to meet Alex and Ryland, with Ash hanging back a bit. Kamal didn't move whatsoever, shouting at them from his seat at the table.

"The fuck was all that?" he yelled, frowning at the pair. Alex felt Ryland's grip on his hand tighten ever so slightly, and the other man opened his eyes, raising his head to meet their approaching friends.

"Is everything alright?" Lorenzo asked, his voice dripping with performative concern. Alex appreciated the gesture, even if Lorenzo's worry ultimately felt insincere.

Alex was ready to let Ryland respond for himself, but when he looked over at him his friend looked like a deer caught in headlights. His expression was relatively blank, but Alex could see the mounting panic in Ryland's eyes.

"Yeah," Alex said, drawing attention away from Ryland, "it's all good now." Sam looked unconvinced but she didn’t say anything, for which Alex was grateful.

"Are — are you sure?" Lorenzo continued, not picking up on the silent message Sam received. "What happened?"

"It was nothing," Alex pushed, "let's just drop it for now, okay?" Lorenzo seemed to finally get the message, whatever further objection he was preparing dying weakly in his throat.

Alex felt guilty, talking for Ryland as he had. He didn't want anyone else to think Ryland couldn't handle himself, least of all Ryland. Thankfully, Ryland seemed relieved by Alex's interjections; some of the tension had visibly left him as his shoulders sagged, a small sigh escaping his lips.

Before the silence could stretch into something tense and uncomfortable, Ash joined the group carrying two plastic cups filled with water. Handing one cup off to Alex she smiled almost knowingly at his grateful nod, turning to Ryland as Alex quickly downed the cool liquid.

"Thanks," Ryland muttered, his voice a loud whisper. Ash smiled and nodded at him, murmuring something that Alex couldn't hear.

Lorenzo seemed like he was about to start questioning Ryland again, so Alex jumped in, getting the group's attention with a clap.

"How about we get back to the party?" he said, easily slipping into his people pleasing act. "C'mon, let's celebrate!" Sam still looked suspicious, glancing between Alex and Ryland questioningly, but she didn't object so Alex counted that as a win.

"Yeah, get back over here so I can kick your asses at UNO," Kamal shouted, drawing the attention of the entire bar once more. Sam quickly snapped back into her competitive mode, grinning and jogging over to the table while calling out her own trash talk. Lorenzo followed with his typical slightly anxious smile, and Ash strolled along behind him.

Turning to Ryland, Alex squeezed their linked hands in a silent question, subtly checking in. Ryland nodded almost imperceptibly, and Alex swears his heart skipped a beat when Ryland's grip slightly tightened.

"Hey, muppet hobo, booger breath! Get your dumb asses over here, shitheads!" Alex turned to face Kamal with an easy, relaxed grin, although he couldn't hide the pink that crept up his cheeks at the joke.

Ryland quickly threw his middle finger up in Kamal’s direction, not even looking at him as he flipped him off. Alex swore he could see a slight blush on Ryland's face as well, but as soon as he noticed it the color was gone.

Not releasing their joined hands, the two headed back over to the group, this time careful not to sit anywhere close to the building's edge.

The celebration resumed easily, the earlier incident being quickly forgotten. Sam easily beat Kamal at UNO, much to Kamal's chagrin. As a consolation, Ash promised to order him a mocktail, so long as he wasn't too harsh on the rest of the team. They all knew it was too much to ask Kamal to be _nice_ to anyone else, but he was able to reign it in somewhat for the remainder of the night.

Alex quickly ordered a few more drinks, needing something to ease the tension of the conversation in the stairwell. As he was going to order his third refill, however, Alex noticed Ryland watching him passively.

Ryland quickly glanced away, trying to mask the glimpse of melancholy Alex had witnessed from him, and Alex's relaxed smile faltered. As he walked up to the bar, Alex's conscience began berating him through his light buzz, chastising him for being so careless.

Ryland opened up to him, and Alex was trying to drink it all away.

Returning to the table, Alex sipped slowly from the soda he'd ordered, resolving to not order another drink for the remainder of the night. Ryland didn't say anything, but Alex caught the barest hint of a smile out of the corner of his eye.

As the celebration progressed, Alex found himself hosting an impromptu game of trivia with the help of Google. Sam quickly got invested, which in turn prompted Kamal to join the game, if only to beat out Sam. Lorenzo was certainly passionate, although he wasn't as skilled as he seemed to think he was. Ryland was only half participating, sitting in the back and calling out answers every so often with surprising accuracy, and Ash was just hovering around the area, tossing in the occasional joking comment.

While Sam and Kamal squabbled over which one of them had answered the previous question first, Alex noticed Ash making her way over to Ryland. She slid into the chair next to his, holding out a beer to him and shrugging playfully when Ryland shook his head. Alex's attention was quickly brought back to the competition, but he found himself sneaking glances at the two of them periodically.

Ryland seemed to be relatively relaxed with Ash, easily carrying on conversation with her. Alex forced himself to swallow the bitter taste that filled his mouth when Ryland laughed airily at something Ash said; he had no right to be upset. Ryland was happy, and that was far more important than any ridiculous jealousy Alex was feeling.

Still, that didn't stop his stomach from turning unpleasantly as he watched the two of them exchange jokes. Alex's bitter mood lingered, oblivious to his attempts to shove his envy aside, but he kept a relaxed smile taped on his face throughout the night.

As the team made their way back down the stairway, Alex found himself lagging behind somewhat, his breathing growing more and more labored. Ryland kept glancing at him worriedly but Alex waved off his concerns, urging him ahead with the others. If he explained why he was so out of breath, Alex would have to explain his binder, and that's not a conversation that he's prepared to handle. Not quite yet, anyway.

"Alex," Ash called, and Alex turned to find her leaning against the wall midway to the ground floor. "I gotta talk to you for a sec."

Confused, Alex looked over to Ryland, finding him just as mystified as Alex was. Ryland met his unspoken question with a shrug, pausing for a moment. The message was clear: _I'll be fine, will you?_

Smiling, Alex nodded, watching as Ryland returned the nod and continued on with the group. Standing near Ash, Alex took the opportunity to catch his breath, wishing he could stretch without raising any suspicions. _Why does this stupid building have so many floors?!_

"What'd you wanna talk about?" Alex asked as soon as he got his breathing somewhat under control. His lungs still burned slightly, but his fear of being outed far outweighed any pain he was in.

"Nothin' much," Ash said, shrugging with a smirk, "you just looked like you were gonna have a heart attack on the spot. You still do, to be honest." Chuckling, she raised an eyebrow at him, her smirk widening as Alex's face flushed a bright pink. 

"Oh, well… uh…" Alex stuttered, his blood running cold. He scrambled desperately for some type of explanation, fiddling with his own hands to avoid lifting the hem of his shirt.

"I don't care 'bout whatever's up," Ash said, cutting off Alex's panicked stammering. "I just know that you'd rather _actually have a heart attack_ than let anyone find out. 'Nd if you're gone, this team will _not_ be able to hold it together. And then I'd be out of a job, so," Ash grinned at him, "figured I'd give you an easy out."

"Oh… thanks," Alex mumbled, feeling somewhat silly. Taking the ensuing silence as an opportunity, he forced himself to cough a few times, trying to loosen his lungs at least a little.

"I've heard that you should do stretches."

"Huh?" Alex turned his attention back to Ash, who was now watching him thoughtfully. Shrugging, she placed a lopsided smile on her face, causing Alex to feel guilty for being so jealous earlier.

"A friend of mine used to do stretches when he had trouble breathing," Ash explained. "He said that it helped."

"Oh, really?" Alex said, trying to hide his confusion. "I've tried that before," he muttered, groaning in relief as he finally pulled his arms over his head, the action very slightly alleviating the pain in his back and chest.

"Yeah," Ash replied, appearing to be satisfied. Alex let himself do a few more stretches; just enough to carry him through the remaining hour until he got home.

"Alright," Alex said, exhaling to find that he was much less strained than before. "Let's catch up with the others." Ash nodded, a laid-back smile on her face, and the two made their way down the remaining flights of stairs to join their friends.

Later that night, Alex would find himself awake, wondering about Ash's friend and his supposed "breathing problems." The more he thought about it, the less it seemed to make sense, and as Alex slowly drifted off to sleep he wondered if he and Ash might be more similar than he'd initially thought.


	7. Truths That Entreat

Splayed out on the hardwood floor, Alex groaned pathetically, attempting to mask his labored breathing. His mind floated aimlessly on the edge of consciousness, the exhausted banter from his team sounding like the adults from the old cartoons he watched as a kid: undefinable, meaningless noise.

Adjusting the wet cloth draped over his face, Alex mentally cursed the apartment's shitty wiring for the eighth time that hour. The AC unit just _had_ to die in the middle of the California summer. And not just any summer day, no, it chose to break in the middle of Killcore practice! When they had five computers running _the most RAM hungry game in existence!_ The poor machines sounded like they were on the verge of collapse, fans whirring frantically.

The rest of the team was just as miserable, most of them having shed the majority of their clothes. It was a testament to how hot it was that Kamal wasn’t even harassing Ash and Sam over their tank tops, or teasing Ryland for his obvious pit stains. Ryland was even wearing the thinnest long sleeved sweater he owned, the light gray fabric much more breathable than the majority of Ryland’s wardrobe.

Alex, meanwhile, was hardly wearing anything different. He’d been wearing his binder when the team arrived, so he couldn’t go take it off without it being obvious. For once Alex was thankful for his non-functional sweat glands; he’d heard more than enough horror stories about sweating in a binder.

All of a sudden Alex’s phone went off obnoxiously, the alarm set to the loudest possible volume to prevent him from missing it. Groaning again, Alex pulled himself up, turning off the alarm and setting his wet towel to the side.

“Anyone need a fresh ice pack?” The team groaned in response, and Alex could hardly blame them.

Stumbling over to the freezer, Alex sighed contentedly as the cool air washed over him. He slowly gathered the partially frozen pieces of plastic, glad that he had gone out to buy extra ice packs earlier during practice.

Alex trudged around the computer table, distributing the cold plastic to the members of the team and collecting the long-since melted ones for refreezing. Alex noticed Ryland had a far off look on his face, his gaze empty as he stared blankly at the screen. The other man clearly wasn’t handling the stifling heat very well, and Alex gently set the two remaining packs beside his friend.

“Here Ry,” Alex said, tapping his friend on the shoulder. Ryland blinked a few times, refocusing his eyes, before looking over at Alex and smiling slightly. Alex could see that Ryland’s expression was slightly strained, so he returned the smile with one of his own, offering his sympathy.

“Hey, how come he gets two?!” Alex startled at the sudden outburst, head snapping up to look at the source of the objection. Kamal was pointing at the two of them angrily, the ongoing match all but forgotten. Glancing over at Ryland, Alex didn’t miss the panic in his eyes.

"Well, since I'm not playing, I figured he could have mine," Alex stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to come up with an excuse."Ryland doesn't do well with the heat — well, I mean, I don't either but I've got my water bottle and the wet towel, and I can just step outside if I start overheating but he's gotta stay at the computer—"

“He was basically dead to the world for a minute there," Ash interjected, and Alex held back a sigh, looking over at her gratefully. "I think he might need them.”

“Well duh, he’s still wearing a long sleeve sweater,” Sam grumbled, frowning as she stood from her computer. “Why doesn’t he just take it off?”

“Um, aren’t we still in — in a match?” Lorenzo called, frantically tapping at his keyboard.

“We’ve basically already lost, old man,” Kamal called over his shoulder, making his way over to Alex and Ryland. Alex tried to discreetly step in front of Ryland, not missing the blank expression that had overtaken his partner’s face. “Just take off the fuckin sweater, dumbass! It’s your shitty apartment, just go get a T-shirt!”

“Lay off, Kamal,” Ash said, setting her headphones down and standing up. “It doesn’t matter." Alex bit his lip as the situation escalated, anxiety creeping up his spine.

“No, Kamal’s right!” Now Sam had moved closer to the gathering, and Lorenzo stood to make his way over as well, although he was reluctant to abandon the ongoing match. “Ryland's gonna get heatstroke. Besides, I’ve always wondered why he never wears short sleeves.”

“Alright, guys, we should probably get back to practice,” Alex interjected, holding his hands up in an attempt to mediate. His objection went unacknowledged, however, as the apartment soon devolved into chaos, the pointless argument overtaking the team.

Alex began to panic slightly, attention darting between each of his shouting friends. Ryland’s expression grew even blanker, and Alex could only watch as his friend descended further inside his own head.

Alex tried to calm everyone down, the noise making it hard for him to focus. He needed to fix this, he had to calm everyone down. Alex had to do this, for the team, for _Ryland_ , he _had to —_

“Oh my — Ryland, what are you doing?!”

Lorenzo’s shout cut through the chaotic arguing, silencing the rest of the team. Attention snapping to the older man, Alex’s eyes widened as he followed his gaze to Ryland’s covered forearms.

Ryland’s sleeve was stained slightly dark red, his hand having crept beneath the fabric. Ryland gasped quietly, nails digging further into his skin, and Alex couldn’t help but grimace slightly.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, and Alex was snapped out of his thoughts as the others began to react. The apartment filled with commotion once more, everyone talking at once. All Alex could focus on, though, was Ryland, his breathing picking up and stuttering as his panic got worse. Ryland was quickly falling apart and, if Alex didn’t do something soon, the situation would only continue to get worse.

“Alright, practice is over. Everybody out.” Alex’s voice was carefully emotionless, quiet and dangerously low. He tried to keep the anxiety coating his mind off of his face, obscuring it with a flat, almost angry expression.

“But his _arm_ -!!”

“Out,” Alex growled, staring pointedly at Lorenzo, who shrank back under his glare. Alex felt bad about being so harsh, but he couldn’t waste time explaining things to them right now.

Ryland needed to be alone.

Alex quickly ushered the team out, trying to appear somewhat apologetic as he closed the front door behind them. Pausing for a moment he took a few deep breaths, trying to center himself. At least he wasn’t all that hot anymore, concern overriding his exhaustion.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, fully aware that Ryland wasn’t hearing him. “Um… okay.” Looking around, his gaze landed on the forgotten damp towel still laying on the floor. “Right, yeah. Okay. Gotta cool off first.”

Making his way around the table, Alex turned off the computers one-by-one. Finishing that, he noticed Ryland was staring ahead emptily, nails still digging into his arm. He didn’t seem fully “there,” and Alex knew it would take some time for him to recover.

Alex was no stranger to dissociation, after all.

Gently taking hold of Ryland’s arm, Alex carefully guided it away from his sleeve, handing him an ice pack to hold onto instead. Ryland seemed to grip it tightly, which Alex took as a good sign.

Leaving Ryland to work on grounding himself, Alex began to work his way around the apartment, closing the curtains and switching off lights. After finishing, he picked up the discarded towel from the floor, heading to the bathroom to put it away.

“Uhh… shit,” he mumbled, “where’d we put that first aid kid…?” Alex started rooting around under the sink, muttering to himself. Finding it, he tucked it under his arm, soaking a second cloth in cold water before heading back out to the main room.

When he returned, Ryland seemed a bit more aware, looking down at the ice pack as he squeezed it periodically. Alex hovered aimlessly for a moment before making a decision, coaxing Ryland to stand up and leading him over to the apartment’s sofa. He pressed the cool washcloth to the other man’s forehead, watching patiently as Ryland slowly started to come down.

After a few minutes, once Ryland seemed to be a bit more grounded, Alex gently took the ice pack back from him, setting it on the coffee table; he didn't want Ryland to hurt himself.. He took Ryland’s cold, trembling hands into his own, squeezing in an even, steady rhythm. Taking deep, deliberate breaths, Alex closed his eyes, trying to provide an example for Ryland to mirror.

Keeping his own thoughts under control was just an added bonus.

Alex watched as Ryland’s breathing slowly evened out, his eyes coming back into focus. Looking around the room, his gaze came to rest on Alex, letting out a shaky breath.

“Alex,” he breathed, and Alex couldn’t help but smile in relief.

“Hey Rylie,” he murmured, gently running his thumbs over the backs of Ryland's hands. “Still too overwhelming, or are you okay to clean up?” Ryland still seemed out of it as he nodded in affirmation, clinging to Alex’s hands tightly. Alex felt terrible when he extracted one of his hands from Ryland’s grip, but he shoved that down alongside the rest of his feelings as he reached over to the first aid kid.

Setting the container open on the coffee table, Alex turned back to Ryland, instantly running into an obstacle. Resting his now-free hand on top of Ryland’s, Alex cast a more sympathetic expression towards the other man.

"Is it okay if I roll up your sleeves?" Alex asked, keeping his tone as gentle as possible. He fully expected the spike of fear and hesitation in Ryland’s expression, but he was a bit surprised when Ryland quickly nodded, gripping his hand even tighter.

Humming in gentle acknowledgement, Alex carefully pushed Ryland’s left shirt sleeve back, squeezing his hand reassuringly while leaving enough leeway so that Ryland could pull away if he needed to. Ryland’s eyes stayed tightly shut, his face twisted in an anxious grimace, and Alex’s heart ached in sympathy.

Turning his attention to Ryland’s arm, Alex resisted the urge to suck in a breath. While most of the wounds weren’t very fresh, many of them appeared to have been reopened rather frequently. Picking up the damp towel, Alex began gently wiping the drying blood off of Ryland’s forearm, keeping his face level.

He couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that ran through him, though, as he carefully cleaned the area. Alex had a general idea as to what Ryland had been hiding beneath his sweaters, but seeing it for himself was different. Ryland was so hurt, was in so much _pain_ that he got to this point… it made Alex’s heart ache for him.

Catching Ryland’s eye, Alex buried his sadness once more, not wanting the other man to get the wrong idea. He returned his focus to the task at hand, moving to Ryland’s right arm once he finished cleaning the left. Once he finished that, Alex reached for a bottle of rubbing alcohol, holding it up so Ryland could see.

“Is it okay if I use this?” Ryland grimaced when he saw what Alex was holding, and Alex adopted a somewhat sad expression. “I don’t have to, but I don’t want it getting infected,” he explained, putting a conscious effort towards keeping his leg from bouncing anxiously.

“Alright…” Ryland mumbled, and Alex nodded, pouring some of the solution onto a cotton ball. Holding out his free hand for Ryland to take, he smiled sympathetically as his companion took it gratefully.

“Ready?” Alex asked, and Ryland nodded quickly. Aside from a quiet hiss when the solution made contact with his open cuts, Ryland didn’t react, keeping his eyes shut as Alex disinfected his wounds.

Halfway through loosely bandaging Ryland’s arms, having set the rubbing alcohol aside, Alex realized he had subconsciously been humming a familiar, calming melody to himself. His mind had automatically gone to the soothing tune in response to the pregnant silence in the apartment, remembering how it would help him relax when his mother would sing it.

As Alex finished wrapping Ryland’s cuts, he glanced up to see Ryland’s eyes closed, head listing to the side. Smiling to himself, Alex put the excess bandages back in the kit, closing it and setting it to the side.

"C'mon buddy," Alex said, nudging his roommate. Ryland whined quietly, falling forward to lean on Alex's chest. Alex chuckled, wrapping his arms around his half-asleep friend. "Alright, fine, you win. You can sleep here."

Adjusting himself so Ryland was comfortably leaning against his side, Alex settled into the couch, continuing to sing quietly. As the afternoon sun started to set outside the quiet apartment, a soft orange glow crept out from beneath the curtains, bathing the room in a feeling of gentle, soothing warmth.


	8. Fulfill These Dreams

When Alex woke up Ryland was still leaning against him, the other man having curled up to him in his sleep. Alex yawned dramatically, stretching his arms over his head as clear sunlight trickled in through the curtains.

Carefully wriggling out of Ryland's sleepy grip, Alex slowly stood up, stretching again. Grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, he checked the time. _9:53… Damn,_ Alex thought as he shuffled over to his makeshift dresser, _didn't know I was so tired!_

Trudging towards the bathroom, Alex felt a sharp spike of pain in his ribs. The sting wasn't as bad as the last time he'd slept in his binder, but it was still significant and painful. While he would have preferred to not have slept in his binder, Alex didn't mind enduring some discomfort as long as Ryland was alright.

After removing his binder, Alex stood in front of the familiar mirror, examining his reflection as he'd done so frequently. His makeup was slightly smudged, but, on a whole, had held up surprisingly well overnight.

Frowning, Alex let his thoughts travel back to the events of the previous day. He'd opted to ignore the multitude of unread messages from the team, certain that he didn't have the answers they wanted. At least, not yet.

They weren't his answers to give, anyway.

Alex's thoughts strayed to Ryland as he wiped off his drying makeup with a damp washcloth. His roommate was just beyond the bathroom door, sleeping more peacefully than Alex had ever seen him. As soon as Ryland woke up they would have to discuss what had happened, Alex knew that much. He didn't want to just assault Ryland with questions the second he came to, though. That absolutely wouldn't help at all.

How should he approach it, then?

Ignoring it wasn't an option, and Ryland probably knew that as well. This was a relatively new idea for both of them — being open and transparent with their problems — so neither man knew how to handle the issue.

Catching the eye of his reflection, Alex found himself confronted with his natural, unaltered face. He found that he wasn't as disgusted with it as he had been before; it still didn't look like _him,_ but Alex didn't find himself hating his reflection.

Suddenly, Alex was reminded of the last time he and Ryland opened up to each other; just a few weeks prior at the rooftop bar. He remembered how he had offered Ryland a hidden part of himself in return for Ryland's secret that had been exposed against his will. While it didn't make the conversation any less painful or awkward, it had appeared to help assuage some of Ryland's worries, at least somewhat.

His mind made up, Alex finished changing, throwing on a colorfully patterned button down and a pair of cargo shorts. He exited the bathroom with only a loose compression bra beneath his shirt, his face bare of any concealing products.

As Alex strode into the outer apartment, exuding false bravado, he found himself plagued with nervous energy. He didn't have the heart to wake Ryland up; who knows the last time his roommate had gotten a solid night's sleep? But every second he spent idling by the sofa felt like pure torture, and Alex wasn't sure how long he could wait.

Checking his phone again, Alex groaned, finding that only seven minutes had gone by. Flicking his fingers in an attempt to relieve the anxious buzz, Alex let his eyes scour the apartment, searching for something to occupy his time.

In a familiar note of irony, Alex found his gaze settling on the apartment's barren kitchenette, chuckling quietly to himself. As funny as it would be for Ryland to wake up to Alex once again attempting to cook, Alex didn't want to accidentally burn down the entire building. The situation was stressful enough without the addition of a fire hazard.

Alex couldn't deny that he was hungry, though. Neither of them had eaten since yesterday morning, so getting food wouldn't be a bad idea. And he did have a bit of extra spending money from various jobs he'd been doing lately…

Grabbing the car keys from their spot on the counter, Alex swung his backpack over his shoulder, preparing to leave. Tearing a piece of bright blue paper off of a random flyer he'd stuffed in his bag, Alex scribbled out a quick message to Ryland, letting him know where he'd gone. As an afterthought, Alex also placed a small glass of water beside the note as the apartment was still fairly hot, although not as bad as it was yesterday.

Propping the front door open, Alex cast one more glance over the apartment, making sure everything was in its place. Satisfied with the state of things, he made his way down to the car, disregarding how exposed he felt without makeup.

The aging car rumbled to life as Alex turned the ignition, humming to himself. Pulling out of the parking lot, Alex switched on the radio, grinning when he was met with the familiar guitar riff of Bon Jovi's most well known hit.

Alex bobbed his head in time with the music, letting it carry his troubles away, at least for the time being. By the time the second pre-chorus rolled around he was singing along passionately, dancing as much as he could without causing an accident.

“ _We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got_  
 _It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not_  
 _We’ve got each other, and that’s a lot for love_  
 _We’ll give it a shot!_ ”

“ _Woah, we’re halfway there_  
 _Woah-oh! Livin’ on a prayer!_  
 _Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear_  
 _Woah-oh! Livin’ on a prayer!_ ”

“ _Livin’ on a prayer!_ ”

Drumming his hands on the steering wheel, Alex found himself trying to sing along to the guitar solo as well, to questionable success. Nevertheless, he felt much less anxious than he had before, having channeled much of the nervous energy buzzing around in his head into the impromptu performance.

Pulling into a vacant lot across the street from his destination, Alex shifted the car into park, exhaling along with the car shutting down. Now that he was faced with the task of going into the diner his anxiety returned in full force, twisting a bitter knot of worry in his stomach.

_C’mon, just do it, just go,_ Alex thought to himself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Repeating the words like a mantra, Alex forced himself out of the car, away from the safety of anonymity, and marched across the street before he could have any further reservations.

A bell sounded as Alex pushed the door open, catching the attention of one of the waiters. Alex felt a sharp spike of fear shoot through him as the man made his way towards the entrance of the diner. Alex had been here countless times, but he'd never come without makeup, and no amount of logic could quell his fear of appearing 'too feminine' in public. What if they didn't recognize him? What if they thought he was a girl? Or worse?

As the waiter drew closer, Alex bit his lip, forcing himself to relax. Panicking would absolutely _not_ help his cause whatsoever.

_Just breathe, just focus on breathing. Just relax!_

"Hi there," the waiter chirped, oblivious to Alex's inner turmoil. "I feel like I've seen you here before… Alex, right?" Alex nodded, a relieved smile spreading across his face. The other man grinned, appearing pleased at having recognized a customer. “What can I get you?”

“Two plates of pancakes, please. Uh, to go.” The waiter nodded, scribbling something down on a notepad.

“I’ll get that right to you,” he said, heading back towards the kitchen. Alex nodded, settling down to wait by the entrance.

Pulling out his phone, Alex decided to start reading through the abundance of messages he’d been collecting overnight. Most of them were exactly what he’d expected: the team demanding an explanation for the events of the previous day. Alex didn’t bother responding to those; he would wait until Ryland could choose — or choose not to — answer their questions himself.

The one message he felt like he could confidently respond to was from Ash, asking when they next had practice. Alex replied that he wasn’t sure, and asked if she could let the others know that everything was fine, and Alex would get back to them when he got a chance. She sent a reply almost immediately, one which consisted of two thumbs up and a heart emoji, so Alex knew he was in good hands.

"Uh… sir?" Looking up, Alex found a different waiter standing in front of him, this time a high-school aged girl. She seemed fairly confused, frowning at a slip of paper while holding a takeout bag in her other hand.

"Yeah?" Alex replied, unable to stop a somewhat goofy smile from spreading across his face at the word 'sir.' The waitress relaxed, although her brow remained furrowed as she placed the plastic bag on the counter.

"Here's your order," she said, pulling a miniature tablet out of her apron. "That'll be $13.95. cash or credit?"

"Here," Alex replied, taking a crumpled $20 bill out of his pocket. "Keep the change!" Smiling at the apathetic teenager, he picked up the takeout bag and made his way back to the car, humming to himself.

The drive back was relatively uneventful, with Alex singing along to classic rock songs on the radio. He tried not to focus on the impending discussion with Ryland, preferring to wing it rather than stress and overthink the conversation as he usually tended to.

After a mildly stressful minute of balancing the takeout on his knee as he tried to unlock the door, Alex kicked the apartment door shut behind him, trying not to make too much noise. He couldn't tell if Ryland was still on the couch from the entryway, but his roommate emerged from the hallway before Alex managed to lock the door again, smiling softly as he rushed to balance the unsteady bag on Alex's leg.

"Pancakes," Alex offered as a simple explanation, and Ryland chuckled quietly in response. Alex's smile softened, his affection for Ryland almost overwhelming in it's intensity.

The two of them quickly sat across from each other, eagerly digging into their food. As Alex had expected, both of them were practically starving, and the only sounds in the room came from their utensils rubbing against the styrofoam containers.

Once they'd both finished, the silence started to feel much more uneasy as they both searched for a way to approach the coming conversation. Alex fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously, striving to breach the tense air between them.

"So," Ryland eventually said, his voice cracking slightly. He immediately faltered, however, his mouth hanging open uncertainly.

"I can go first," Alex interjected, "if that'd be easier." Ryland quickly shook his head, looking up briefly to make eye contact with Alex. 

"No! No, I…" Ryland looked away, studying the grooves of the cheap table intently. Alex could see the determination in his friend's eyes, and knew that Ryland had made up his mind. Nodding, he tried to make his expression as open and understanding as possible, content to let Ryland take this at his own pace. Ryland bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"I've been depressed for… years," he began, gaze locked on his own hands. "Ever since I graduated high school, really. The, uh, this," Ryland stammered, raising his covered arm slightly, "is more recent, though."

Ryland paused, staring at the table silently. Alex just waited patiently, letting his friend process everything.

"Technically it started… like… 3 years ago? But I'd been, uh… _careless_ before that." Alex nodded, knowing better than to interrupt but still silently trying to offer Ryland some form of encouragement.

"I dropped out of college, because of the… video. After it — after it became popular I quit DotA, 'nd my parents helped me move out here, paid for my first year tuition. I was gonna major in game design." Chuckling bitterly, Ryland ran a hand through his hair, grounding himself. "Shit follows you, though. I couldn't go anywhere without… someone mentioning it. So I just… stayed home. Dropped out pretty soon after, 'nd then I started… yeah."

Alex could tell how hard it was for Ryland to go through this. Knowing him, he probably hadn't even gone over it by himself. Still, Ryland soldiered on, clearing his throat weakly.

"Nothin's really changed since then. I mean, it got worse, but not different. Got less… careful over time, I guess. Stopped caring.” Ryland's voice was monotonous and empty, as was his expression as he stared at his hands. "I wasn’t… actively trying to… do anything. Well, at first. Actually,” he chuckled dryly, “the night we met I… I was planning to…” Ryland swallowed, cutting himself off.

“That’s why I was at the bar. It’s hard to… make yourself go that far. F’r me, at least. I was hopin’ getting drunk would make it easier. But, uh… you showed up. ‘nd I… I dunno why but… I couldn’t leave you, I guess?" Alex blinked, not expecting to hear anything about himself, but Ryland continued before he could react.

"I mean, sometimes I’d get like… close I guess, but more times than not… I dunno.” Rubbing his face, Ryland sighed. “You, uh… you kept me from… makin’ a mistake or something, dude. I’m… I’m trying.”

Ryland sighed again, keeping his eyes downcast. Alex waited a bit, making sure his friend was finished. After a few moments of silence, Alex reached over and took Ryland’s hand in his own, smiling softly as Ryland's fear-filled eyes shot up to meet his own.

“Ry…" Alex began, searching for a way he could express what he felt. "You stopped yourself, man. I had nothin’ to do with it.” Ryland scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Alex grinned at him in response. "I'm serious! You're fuckin… strong as hell, dude!" Giggling slightly, Alex was delighted to see Ryland smile back at him, a hesitant expression of joy on his face.

"But like, seriously. Give yourself some credit," Alex continued, his voice softening. "You're fucking amazing. And so help me, I'll never let you forget that shit."

Alex watched as Ryland nodded awkwardly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Standing up, Alex spread his arms for a hug just as Ryland rushed in for one voluntarily.

As Ryland buried his face in his shoulder, Alex allowed a sad smile to grace his expression. Hearing everything Ryland had been through made it that much more real, and Alex's heart ached for his friend. He knew things would still be hard for Ryland, but Alex only hoped that he'd be able to make it a bit less painful, if nothing else.

"Sorry, dude," Alex said after a while, pulling back from the embrace but leaving his hands on Ryland's shoulders, "looks like you're stuck with me." Ryland laughed quietly, and Alex felt his cheeks heat up in response to the genuinely relaxed and joyful expression on Ryland's face.

A few moments later, Ryland suggested that they clean up, appearing somewhat restless. The two men made quick work of the small amount of garbage, not bothering with the residual mess scattered across the apartment. Once they finished, Alex turned to Ryland, a nervous grin on his face.

"Alright," he began, silently begging for his voice to remain steady, "now it's my turn." Ryland looked confused for a second, blinking a few times before understanding dawned on his face.

"You don't have to, y'know." Alex forced himself to chuckle, shaking his head.

"And let you have all the deep backstory sharing fun? No way, man." In reality, Alex wanted nothing more than to brush this off and move on, but that wouldn't be fair to Ryland. Ryland had been so open and transparent with Alex; it's only fair that Alex do the same.

Alex was dragged out of his worries by Ryland awkwardly grabbing his hand, offering what Alex assumed was supposed to be a comforting smile, although it looked more like a concerned grimace. Alex couldn't help but giggle, some of the tension fading from his body.

"Alright, here we go," he finally sighed, running a hand through his hair anxiously.

"You've, uh, probably… figured some of this out already, but…" Alex swallowed dryly, fighting the urge to cry that was rapidly rising in the back of his throat, "um…" _Just spit it out!_

"I'm trans." Unable to stop himself, Alex looked up to search Ryland's face desperately, wary of any sign of confusion or anger.

"Like, transgender?" Ryland asked after a moment, appearing to slowly process the statement.

“Yeah,” Alex mumbled, his smile having quickly faded into something more fearful. “That’s, uh… that’s why my dad disowned me, and why the band kicked me out. They, uh… they wanted a female lead and I’m… not that.” Alex fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously, his eyes downcast.

“I… look, dude, you know I’m not really a ‘words’ person,” Ryland said, squeezing Alex’s hand the same way the other man often did for him, “but like… those guys suck.” Alex looked up at Ryland, hope flooding his eyes. “Like… fuck, man. You’re Alex, right?” Alex nodded. “And you’re a guy, right?” Alex nodded again, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. “Then, like… whatever, I guess?” Ryland shrugged, and Alex had to resist the urge to burst into laughter at Ryland's attempt at being reassuring. "You get what I mean, dude.” Not giving Ryland a chance to stumble over his words any further, Alex surged forward and hugged him tightly.

“Thanks, dude,” Alex mumbled into Ryland’s shoulder, “even though you suck at being encouraging.” Ryland chuckled, playfully shoving Alex away. Alex finally let himself burst into giggles, leaning on Ryland joyfully.

"Great, thanks for the encouragement, asshole," Ryland chuckled, struggling to contain his own laughter. Nothing about the situation was particularly amusing, but the sheer relief both of them felt was making them giddy.

Ryland soon cleared his throat, trying to steady himself, and Alex frowned somewhat jokingly. Ryland sounded so happy, and Alex didn't want that to end just yet.

"Aww, c'mon, don't stop," Alex pouted, poking at Ryland's chest. "I've never heard you laugh before!"

"I've laughed around you," Ryland argued, batting away Alex's hands with a wobbly smile.

"Well, yeah, but not like this! You sound so happy!" Ryland continued to push Alex's hands away, and the shaky smile on his face gave Alex an idea. A mischievous grin started to spread across Alex's face, and he started inching towards Ryland. "In fact, I wanna hear it again!"

"What? What are you-?" Ryland was cut off with a yelp as Alex poked him again, this time in his stomach. Realization dawned in his expression, and Ryland glared at Alex, who only smirked in response.

"I had a feeling you’d be ticklish!" Alex crooned, continuing to poke at Ryland. 

"Alex — Alex _stOP,_ " Ryland stammered, backing away from his roommate while trying to fend off his attacks. Alex continued to advance, his grin growing wider with every yelp and flinch.

Alex eventually had Ryland backed up against the couch, and he gently pushed the other man back onto the cushions. He knew that Ryland wasn't especially bothered by his behavior; if it really made him uncomfortable he'd object much more sternly. They were both stressed, and Alex knew they could both use some time to just relax and be _happy._

That, and Alex was just in a playfully affectionate mood.

Crawling on top of Ryland, Alex gently squeezed at his friend’s sides, and was immediately caught off guard. Both men froze as Ryland let out an embarrassing squeal, staring at each other as Ryland’s face slowly flushed a bright pink.

"Holy shit…" Alex murmured, grin slowly widening. Ryland seemed to snap out of it then, frowning and trying in vain to be intimidating.

"Shut the fuck up."

"What was _that?_ "

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"Yes! Get off me, asshole!"

Alex smirked down at Ryland as the other man tried to push Alex off of him, his blush growing darker by the minute. Catching Alex's gaze, Ryland froze at the sinister gleam in his roommate's eyes, glaring at him.

"Don't you fucking dAHARE-!!" Alex couldn’t help but laugh along with Ryland as he started tickling his roommate wholeheartedly. Ryland squirmed around lazily, chasing Alex’s hands with his own. "Alex, Alehex sTOHOP!!"

Snickering, Alex finally laid off, poking his stomach a few more times as he sat back. He couldn’t help but keep chuckling as Ryland laid back, trying to contain the residual laughter bubbling up in his chest.

"Dude, that's _hilarious,_ " Alex chuckled, scooting back so Ryland could sit up. Ryland glared half-heartedly at him, pushing Alex back with faux-anger and bringing his knees up to his chest.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, although he didn’t object when Alex rested his head on his shoulder, leaning against Ryland. Alex heard him sigh contentedly, and he was fairly sure that the other man was smiling as he leaned back against Alex.

Alex let himself relax as the two of them settled into a comfortable silence. The apartment was still heated, but it was less stifling than it had been over the past few days, offering more of a comforting warmth.

After a moment Alex pulled out his phone, needing something aimless to occupy himself. Laying curled up against his roommate, best friend, and partner, Alex allowed himself to enjoy the moment, fully relaxed as the ambient sounds of the apartment lulled the pair into a comforting trance.

"What is that?" Alex let out a questioning hum in response to Ryland's sudden question, lifting his head to meet the other man's eyes. "That song you're humming," Ryland explained, head tilted in curiosity. "I've heard you do that a lot."

Alex blinked, his sluggish mind taking a bit to process the question. Once he'd caught up, a light flush spread across his face and he grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, that," he mumbled, sitting up slightly. Alex hadn't noticed that he'd been humming, the act having become almost second nature to him. "It's just a song that a… relative of mine used to sing. It's always been real calming… 'nd stuff…"

Fiddling with his hands anxiously, Alex began to wonder how often he'd started humming around Ryland. He'd known that he had a habit of singing songs his mother used to sing to him to calm himself down, but apparently he'd been doing it more often than he thought without even realizing it.

"How's it go?" Ryland asked after a bit, and Alex couldn't hide the shock that flickered across his expression. Ryland appeared to notice it, quickly backtracking embarrassedly. "I mean, if you're cool with singin' it. You don't have to—"

"No," Alex interrupted, patting Ryland's arm gently. "No, it's fine." He didn't mind singing it for Ryland, he was just… worried. It had been so long since he sang seriously for someone else; there's no telling how bad he'd be. Alex had never sung for anyone after his voice dropped, so he had no idea if he was even any good anymore.

Inhaling deeply, Alex forced the whirlwind of worries out of his mind. He let his eyes slip shut as he began to hum, restarting the lullaby from the beginning.

Coming to the lyrical part of the song, Alex kept his eyes closed, clenching his fist tightly as he began to sing.

" _Hey, it's okay if you're not okay right now._  
 _You have plenty of time to figure it out._ "

Alex had to stop himself from cringing as his voice wavered, but he was able to quickly even out his tone once he got going. Gently bobbing his head along to the nostalgic melody, Alex found himself soon getting lost in the music as he had so many times before.

" _And, before you know it, you won't even remember the last time._  
 _Someday you'll be glad you didn't listen to your demons that one night._ "

Opening his eyes, Alex gazed softly at Ryland, captivated by the wonder in the other man's expression. Alex carefully reached out, lightly running his fingertips over Ryland's forearm, his expression taking on a saddened undertone. As he started the next verse, though, Alex felt pure, unbridled affection bubble up in his chest, a fond smile overtaking his expression.

" _And I already can't wait to see how you'll grow._  
 _There'll be skies as clear as your eyes and grass as soft as your nose._ "

Alex returned to his position leaning against Ryland, his head resting on Ryland's shoulder. He closed his eyes once more, smiling as Ryland carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

" _And I'll tell you all of the things I love about you,_  
 _And I'll tell you about all the times that I've smiled because of you,_  
 _And you'll realize…_ "

Snuggling in closer to Ryland's chest, Alex sang the final words of the song in a near whisper, the quiet words ringing truer than ever. Alex knew these things would take time, that sometimes things would get worse before they get better, that it wouldn't be easy. It had never been easy, and it never would be.

But now, Alex had Ryland. Now, they had each other.

Now, they could be okay.

Together.

" _It's okay if you're not okay right now._ "


	9. Always Deemed See-Through

"Get in losers, we're going shopping."

"Timely reference, Alex," Sam snarked, yanking open the van door. Alex just grinned, leaning halfway out the window.

"What'd you expect, asking Alex to pick us up?" Ash said as she slid into one of the seats. Ryland snorted in amusement, staring aimlessly out the passenger window beside Alex. "I'm assuming the other two didn't need the ride?"

"Lorenzo went to pick up Kamal," Ryland explained, "and said he'll meet us back at the apartment." Ash hummed in acknowledgement, and Alex took that as a cue to pull out into the California traffic.

Alex allowed the girls' aimless chatter to fade into white noise, the radio turned off for once. He used to be scared of driving when he was younger, but as he matured Alex found that he was actually quite fond of it. He could just zone out the entire trip, focusing all of his attention on steering the vehicle. For someone who was as prone to overthinking as Alex was, any break from his own mind was more than welcome.

Gradually braking at an intersection, Alex glanced over at Ryland in the passenger seat. Ryland was watching something intently and, looking in the direction his partner was staring, Alex saw a small, fluffy dog in the car beside theirs. Ryland seemed captivated, a small smile gracing his face as he looked on with wonder.

Alex grinned, chuckling slightly as he turned his attention back to the road. Ryland seemed so much more carefree these days, and Alex couldn't be happier for him. He was proud of the whole team, don't get him wrong, but he was especially proud of how far Ryland had come in the past months.

After Bloodmatch, Esports People decided to be more serious about their future and reputation in the esports community. They started holding practice more frequently and had been attending more casual community events. Ryland had initially been hesitant about the development, but over time he’d grown more accustomed to everything, opening up both to Alex and the team.

Peeking at Ryland at the next stoplight, Alex was delighted to see a small, content smile resting on his companion's face. It may not seem like much, but after all Ryland had been through, seeing such genuine contentment from was a much bigger deal than most people would think.

After a few seconds, Ryland looked over at Alex out of the corner of his eye, a bemused expression on his face. Alex just chuckled softly, looking back out the windshield just as the light turned green.

“You okay?” Ryland asked, cocking an eyebrow at Alex. Alex just laughed again, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Yeah, just thinkin’,” he replied, glancing at Ryland for a moment before turning back to the road.

“Wow, what caused this?” Alex couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, noticing a teasing grin on Ryland’s face. Alex was uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds, nothing but the ambient chatter behind the window separating the driver’s cabin from the back.

“Y’know, stuff,” Alex said eventually, shrugging slightly. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Even though Alex was watching the road, he could practically feel Ryland’s baffled expression. Feeling slightly awkward, Alex laughed again in an attempt to diffuse the tension before continuing.

“I dunno, I’m just feelin’ nostalgic I guess.” Alex glanced at Ryland again and was relieved to see that he was smiling. “Just… I’m really glad you’re here with me, Rylie.”

Ryland reached over, squeezing Alex’s shoulder gently. Meeting the other man’s eyes, Alex was blown away by the genuine affection displayed so openly on Ryland’s face, his partner wearing a soft smile to match.

"If we get into an accident because you two are too busy being gay, I'm gonna sue you _so fucking hard!_ " Sam shouted from the back, Ash snickering in the background. Ryland quickly tore his hand away from Alex, his face burning bright red with a flustered frown to match.

"You're just jealous of our love," Alex shot back, grinning to distract from his own blush. "Isn't that right, Rylie?" Ryland determinedly ignored him, pretending to stare out the window, but Alex didn't miss how the other man's face flushed even darker at his comment.

Alex chuckled fondly, returning his attention to the road. The team was well aware of Ryland and Alex's relationship, even though nothing had been officially established. Alex loved Ryland, and Ryland loved Alex. That's all that mattered.

That didn't stop their friends from teasing them, though.

Personally, Alex didn't mind the teasing all that much. He knew Ryland didn't either, regardless of how he reacted. Neither of them wanted to make a big deal of coming out, and the playful teasing acknowledged the matter without making a big production out of it. It was never anything harmful or mean, so Alex saw no reason to object.

Speaking of coming out.

Inhaling deeply, Alex felt his binder stretch with his lungs, still constricting, but not too tight. After he had come out to Ryland, Alex had been more cautious when it came to binding, due in no small part to Ryland's frequent check-ins and reminders. Once Ryland knew Alex was binding, he became determined to prevent the unhealthy behaviors Alex had grown accustomed to. Alex appreciated his concern more than he could express, and the frequent small gestures helped to alleviate any worries he had in regards to Ryland's acceptance.

The team, on the other hand, was a completely different beast.

It's not that Alex doesn't trust them! That's not the case at all. Alex really, truly _does_ want to tell them; _secrets hurt the team,_ after all! But he's just… not ready.

Coming out to Ryland was hard enough for him; Alex probably wouldn't have done it if circumstances hadn't demanded it. He doesn't regret it — quite the opposite, actually — but Alex doesn't think he can handle that much stress again so soon.

Guilt over keeping this part of him hidden ate away at Alex's psyche, but fear overshadowed it by a long shot. Even though Ryland hadn't reacted badly, Alex's previous experiences with coming out still haunted him. Sure, the others might react like Ryland did, but what if they didn't? What if the team breaks up because of it? What if he ruins everything?

Alex can't take that risk. Not now.

Not when everyone was so happy.

The rest of the drive sped by in an aimless haze of tail lights and intersections, hardly even registering to Alex's distracted mind. He emerged from his driving headspace as he pulled into the parking lot in front of their apartment, smiling to himself as he shut off the van.

"Fucking _FINALLY!_ " As the group clambered out of the vehicle, Kamal shouted at them from across the parking lot, hopping off of the hood of Lorenzo's van.

"Sup, loser," Sam replied, laughing when Kamal stuck his tongue out in response. Not waiting for the others, Kamal darted into the building, leaving the rest of the team to watch him with bemusement.

"I'm guessing he didn't like waiting," Ryland joked as the team followed Kamal inside. Alex chuckled lightly, although most of his focus was captured by the light brush of Ryland's shoulder against his own.

As soon as he was let into the cramped apartment, Kamal made a beeline for his spot at the computer setup, exhaling dramatically. The others had to rush to log in, as Kamal immediately hopped onto Killcore.

"Today was fuckin' stressful," he said with a smirk, "'nd I need to blow some shit up!" Alex just rolled his eyes at Kamal's antics, grabbing his clipboard to start practice.

The first few rounds ended in decisive victories, the group's synergy better than ever. As Alex doodled aimlessly on the notepad he rarely used for notes, he couldn't help the surge of awe that flooded him unprompted.

To think they'd started as a rag-tag group of nobodies; Esports People was a Killcore sensation, the silly name well known throughout the esports community. Sure, they weren't the top team, but the progress they'd made was more impressive than a number one tier spot.

Part way through one of the later matches, an unexpected knock echoed through the apartment.

"I've got it!" Alex groaned, pulling himself off of the sofa. Trudging over to the door, Alex expected to find a delivery person or a disgruntled neighbor, not having anticipated any visitors.

Needless to say, Alex was surprised by the familiar face he found behind the thin door. His heart plummeting, all Alex could do was stare haplessly at the older man that stood before him.

The visitor stared at Alex with a smirk covering his face, dark brown eyes reminding Alex of a black, moonless night. Alex's blood ran cold at his knowing expression, and he had to clench his fist to keep it from shaking.

"Hello █████," the older man said, and it was all Alex could do to not slam the door in his face, the smoldering name the other spat dredging up forgotten venoms from Alex’s past.

"How did you get my address?" Alex whispered, begging his voice to remain even. The visitor's grin took on an air of malice, teeth glinting in the afternoon sun. The other man let out a quiet chuckle, the familiar sound sending a shiver up Alex's spine.

"Oh, I just did some digging, asked around a touch. Honestly, you should be more careful with what you post online," he said, a mildly threatening undertone in his voice. "You never know who may find it."

"Alex?" Ryland called over his shoulder, glancing back worriedly. "Who's there?" Alex had been unnervingly quiet since he opened the door, and Ryland couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut.

The older man inclined his head in a silent question, raising an eyebrow at Alex's silence. Alex stepped aside instinctively, cursing himself for acquiescing so easily, yet not having the willpower to object.

The visitor easily strode past Alex and into the apartment proper, surveying the area with a blank expression. The team watched him quizzically, turning away from their computers as the triumphant victory jingle played.

"Um, this — this is the team," Alex said, rushing over to stand between the intruding man and the team. "We were — were just holding practice, uh…"

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Kamal snapped, and the whole team was shocked when Alex flinched at his demand. Turning to face his friends sheepishly, Alex cleared his throat, willing his heart to stop pounding.

"Uh, this is… this is my dad," Alex muttered, glancing nervously around the room. The team was overcome with shock, attention centered on the unfamiliar man in the entryway. Alex's father smiled, casting his gaze between each of the room's occupants in turn, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Greetings," he said, his tone level and even, "it's a pleasure to meet you all."


	10. Their Angry Sea

“So, this is where you’re living now, hm?”

Alex didn’t have the heart to respond. He knew full well that the slightest word could set his father off on a humiliating tirade, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. Trailing behind his father, Alex followed as the older man made his way towards the apartment’s sitting area, wringing his hands nervously.

The others looked on warily, unnerved by the anxiety that was practically radiating off of their coach. The differences between Alex and his father were striking; Alex’s normal “stylishly disheveled” look stood out against his father’s neatly pressed, formal suit.

Despite the differences, though, there was no denying the uncanny resemblance between the two. One look at the older man’s curly hair, carefully pulled back into an immaculate bun in contrast to Alex’s free-flowing locks, and there could be no denying the two men were related.

The team watched with varying expressions of discontent as Alex’s father picked up a discarded beer can from the coffee table, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Well, it’s better than living on the streets, at the very least.”

“Do you need something?” Ryland snapped, crossing his arms defensively. While Alex had never explicitly talked about his father, there’d been more than enough hints as to the state of their relationship, and Ryland had a decent idea of what type of person the man was.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” the older Taylor said, setting the can back where he’d found it and wiping his hand off on his suit. “I just wanted to check on █████.”

Alex had to bite back a whimper, the barbed word ringing in his ears and searing him from the inside out. At the questioning glances he received, the older Taylor chuckled quietly. “Oh, right… what are you going by these days?” he asked, turning to Alex challengingly.

“Alex,” he whispered, “it’s… it’s always been Alex.” His father just chuckled again, waving dismissively, and Alex found himself biting back tears.

_C’mon, deep breaths, deep breaths,_ Alex thought as his father strode over to the kitchenette, _I can’t start crying already. Not in front of everyone else._ Clearing his throat, Alex shook his head, pointedly avoiding the team's questioning stares.

"We're kind of in the middle of practice," Alex said, clenching his fists by his sides. "So if you could come back later—"

"I can wait," his father interrupted, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting. He brushed the seat off before sitting down, hardly resting on it, as if he would catch some disease from touching its surface. "Please, return to your 'practice,'" he said, making air quotes to accompany his sarcastic tone.

Alex swallowed dryly, turning back to the team. He forced a weak smile, hoping he didn't look as anxious as he felt. "Alright, let's just… start another game, alright?"

Alex's father scoffed at his uncoordinated attempt to appear nonchalant, and Alex quickly turned to sit on the sofa, not able to handle the worried eyes of his teammates staring back at him.

Practice resumed as normal, with the addition of a tense atmosphere hanging over the room. Alex's father sat to the side, occasionally commenting on various things that happened to come to mind.

"So, Mr. Taylor…" Lorenzo began, glancing over upon dying for the eighth time, "what do you do for a living?" He didn't seem to catch Ryland's frustrated glare, the older man determined to broach the air of discomfort.

"Oh, nothing much," Alex's father replied, grinning smugly. "I merely act as a ranking executive for Taylor Insurance Limited; I’m sure you’ve heard of us." Lorenzo’s eyes widened slightly, his stunned silence only increasing the elder Taylor’s ego.

"I’ve always encouraged █████," Alex winced, the name delivering a harsh blow to his composure, "to enter the industry, but she was always more interested in 'pursuing her dreams.'" His father's chuckle as he mimed air quotes sounded light and joking, but Alex could only hear the underlying malice in his tone.

"You mean _Alex,_ " Kamal snapped, glaring darkly at Mr. Taylor. The man either didn't notice or didn't care, turning to Kamal with a patronizing smirk.

"Yes, of course,” his father huffed lightly, “my mistake." Alex couldn't tear his eyes off of the ground, mortification burning in his head.

"Although, that music idea never did work out, did it?" Alex's father said, breaking the silence after a few minutes. "That's a shame, really; you did seem to enjoy it." Turning towards Alex, his father cocked an eyebrow, the subtle signal causing Alex to snap his gaze to the floor, fear coursing through him. "Remind me, what is it you're doing now?"

"I… I coach a Killcore team," Alex muttered, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself defensively. "It's — it's an esport." His father hummed, and Alex heard the disapproval in his tone loud and clear.

"Video games are fun, aren't they?" his father continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've always wondered about the profit from the field, though. It doesn't seem to be a very stable business, at least to me."

Alex didn't bother objecting, too anxious to even look up from the floor.

"At least you get to spend time with your… friends," his father added after a moment, glancing over at the team, none of whom were paying very much attention to the ongoing match. "It's nice that you've found people you can _relate to._ "

Alex took a shaky breath, wishing he could summon the willpower to say _something_ for once. His dad was cutting him off from the team, he was making his friends _hate him_ and there was nothing he could do about it. They're all gonna realize that Alex is a liar, that he's been lying to them since they met, and they'll all abandon him in a heartbeat.

It's not like the team needs him. They'd be perfectly fine without their inept coach who couldn't even pronounce "esports" properly. And Ryland would go with them because the team's got something special, something much better than anything Alex could offer.

Feeling like he belonged was nice while it lasted, but here his dad was, right on cue to take it all away.

The next few minutes were uncomfortably silent, the only sounds coming from the hesitant clacking of keyboards. Alex focused on maintaining a neutral expression, periodically checking the time on his phone.

Alex couldn't bring himself to end practice early — not only would it be unfair to the team, but he didn't want to have to face his dad alone, as selfish as that was. So here he was, forcing everyone into an undesirable situation just because he's too much of a coward to face his own dad.

Abruptly, Alex was dragged out of his misery by the voice of his father, the sudden stab of the long-since abandoned name catching Alex off guard.

"█████, could you show me where the restroom is?" his father asked, evidently having grown tired of watching Alex squirm. Alex felt his blood run cold, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he staggered to his feet.

"It's just down the hall," Ryland interrupted, pushing his chair back. "I'll show you." Alex caught a brief flicker of anger in his father's eyes, quickly hidden behind his amiable businessman façade.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, please. My daughter is more than capable of assisting me with this, despite how difficult it must seem." Alex's dad shot him a meaningful glare, daring him to disagree.

"It — It's fine, Ryland," Alex said, standing up awkwardly. "It's fine," he repeated, hurrying past the others down the hall, his father's footsteps following behind. Something about the familiar footfalls made Alex's heart rate spike, dragging up memories of similar situations from his past.

The short walk down the hallway felt like an eternity to Alex, arriving at the bathroom both too soon and not soon enough. Alex pushed the door open hesitantly and turned back to his father, hoping his gut instinct was wrong for once.

It wasn't, and his father gestured to the open door, the faux expression of goodwill long gone from his face. Alex shuffled into the bathroom, his heart plummeting at the quiet click of the lock as his father slipped in behind him.

The bathroom was tense and cramped, Alex's breathing steadily speeding up as he turned to face his father. Alex immediately regretted making eye contact, the disdain in the older man's eyes instinctively reminding Alex to bow his head submissively, his hands trembling pathetically at his side.

“I’m sure you know why I’ve come,” his father said, and Alex wanted to cry at the disdainful tone of voice he used, “so I’ll make this simple. I don’t have the time to waste on you.”

Alex just stared down at the tile floor, wishing it would crack open and swallow him up.

“Stop this silly gaming nonsense immediately.” Alex’s head shot up in surprise, his eyes widening. “I refuse to stand idly by while you sully my family name with your buffoonery.”

“Dad… dad I can’t—” His father sneered at him, raising an eyebrow challengingly, and Alex shut his mouth with an audible click.

“If you refuse to comply, I will require you to pay $8,000 in monthly reparations for the continuous damages to my name.” Alex began to panic, not having to calculate anything to know he couldn’t afford that. He could barely pay for himself! “This offer is extremely generous, considering all the shame you’ve brought upon me.”

“I — I can’t… Dad, there’s no way I can afford that,” Alex stammered, unable to hide his mounting fear.

“I did my research, █████.” Alex hardly reacted to the use of his deadname, so caught up in his increasing panic, “and $8,000 is well within the monetary rewards for these ‘tournaments’ you take part in.” At Alex’s continued silence, his dad’s smile fell, a glare overtaking his face. “We both know there are plenty of things you frivolously spend money on.” Dismissively gesturing towards Alex’s face, he scoffed. “Your inane use of makeup, for example. You waste so much money on this pointless makeup, and yet you don’t own a single tube of lipstick.”

Alex felt like he was shriveling up, his eyes stinging painfully. His dad began to squint at him, leaning closer, and Alex had to fight the instinct to pull away, knowing that would only make his father angrier.

“… Although, you may need that excessive concealing makeup now, with the advent of that disgusting facial hair of yours.”

Alex brought a hand up to feel his growing stubble, new anxieties springing to the surface. He thought his stubble looked fine; did it really look _disgusting?_

"Of course, you have to stop with those horrible chemical injections first. I don't understand why you're so determined to mutilate yourself like that." Chuckling, his father smirked condescendingly, his glare boring holes in Alex's soul.

"Think of it this way — now you won't be able to waste any further money on this or any other nonsense. Don’t think I didn’t notice the copious amounts of alcohol scattered around this trash heap." The older man wrinkled his nose at the end of his statement, thumbing his nose in disgust. “Not to mention the repulsive stench of whatever other drugs you’ve been using. Disgraceful.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on evening out his breathing. His chest felt tighter than usual, and he tried to stretch subtly to relieve some of the pressure. Alex's head felt like he was underwater, yet his father's voice cut through the fogginess like a knife, piercing his chest painfully.

"Are you still taping your chest?" his father asked, his voice incredulous. At Alex's silence, he barked out a sharp, mocking laugh, making Alex recoil sheepishly. "I would have thought that the multiple rib injuries would have ended that ridiculousness. But no, you're _determined_ to repeatedly injure yourself."

"I don't use tape anymore," Alex murmured, his head still bowed. "I — I have a binder now." Why was he talking back? What was he trying to accomplish by correcting his dad? It's not like his dad actually cared about the logistics of this! "It's… it's safer."

"Nonsense. It's all the same." Alex felt the urge to grin dryly; he _knew_ there was no point in explaining, but he did it anyway! And look at what happened. "It's _disgraceful._ Do you know how _embarrassing_ it is when people ask me about you? You have brought nothing but shame to this family, █████"

Mr. Taylor's tirade was cut off by a sudden loud series of knocks on the bathroom door. Alex jumped at the sound, glancing warily at the closed door.

"Alex, you okay?" Alex felt a spark of hope rise in his chest at Ryland's worried voice. That hope was quickly smothered, however, by his father's warning glare.

"Yes, just give us a moment," his father said cooly, not bothering with a phony smile to match his voice. "I was just speaking to my daughter about a private matter. We will be out in a moment." Turning to Alex, his father gave him a look that said 'we'll finish this later,' before swiftly opening the door and confidently striding out.

Alex tried to maintain long, shallow breaths, not wanting to appear any more distraught than he already had. His father flashed an insincere smile at Ryland as he strode by, returning to the main portion of the apartment. Alex couldn't meet Ryland's eye as he passed; he’d given up on faking happiness, now he was just aiming to not burst into tears.

Back in the body of the apartment, the atmosphere was even tenser than it was when Alex left. He could practically feel the anger radiating off the team, choking back a whimper.

It's his fault they're upset, he knows it is. They're mad at him for lying to them, for hiding so much for so long. It's all his fault, just like it always is.

"My apologies for taking up so much of your coach's time," Alex's father said, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. "I merely had to discuss a family matter with her, isn't that right, █████?"

Alex couldn't stop the way his breath hitched pitifully, the horrid sting of his deadname feeling like a kick to his psyche while he was already down.

" _Alex,_ " Ryland growled, his voice dark and aggressive. "Your _son's_ name is _Alex._ "

Mr. Taylor turned to Ryland with a sickly sweet fake smile, his irritation leaking through his façade and onto his face. "Ah, yes, of course. It's been quite some time since I've spoken to her," he said, the pronoun misuse careful and intentional, "so it's difficult to—"

"It's not that hard to remember the name of your own _son,_ " Ash added, standing up and walking over to the cluster, standing beside Alex, flanking him from the side opposite Ryland. "Regardless of how long it's been."

Alex's dad's expression darkened, the beginnings of a glare creeping onto his face. The rest of the team stood up as well, standing behind Alex in a clear show of support.

"Yes, well—"

"Nah, that's really just common decency," Sam said, cutting off whatever objection Alex's father was preparing. The man turned his stony gaze on Sam, his upper lip curling in a nasty sneer.

"Who are _you_ to lecture _me_ about decency?" he hissed, the clear implications of the statement poisoning the air.

Sam looked absolutely _livid,_ just barely able to restrain herself from rushing the older man.

"No — I must agree," Lorenzo said. "While I greatly respect your business prowess, I greatly object to your personal decisions. Coming here with no notice goes against everything I've learned as a landlord, and is absolutely _not_ appropriate conduct, regardless of the circumstance."

"I have no intention of taking criticism from a _landlord,_ " Alex's father hissed, rolling his eyes dismissively. Lorenzo seemed somewhat hurt by the disregard, but he stood his ground resolutely despite it.

"Okay boomer." The older Taylor's face flushed an angry red, his sudden burst of anger whirling around towards Kamal.

“You should respect your elders, young man,” he snapped, “seeing as without our hard work your kind wouldn’t be able to move here and _waste_ all our resources with your _unbridled lethargy.”_

The apartment fell dead quiet, everyone stunned into silence by the outburst.

"Holy shit…" Sam whispered, breaking the spell as Kamal grinned angrily.

"You wanna fight, dicknips? Because I will _not_ hesitate to kick your Mark Zuckerberg lookin' ass into the next goddamn century, I fucking swear to—"

Before Kamal could get close to the older man, Alex put a hand out, blocking his path forward. The group's attention turned to Alex, who, despite the clear uncertainty and fear still glimmering behind his eyes, had schooled his expression into a resolute glare.

"Don't," Alex said, his voice quiet and even. Stepping forward so he wasn't shielded by Ryland and Ash, Alex held his gaze level with his father's. "This is _my_ problem to handle."

Alex's father sneered confidently, his face still flushed with frustration. Adjusting his stance, he tried to recapture his dignified businessman façade, adjusting his tie stiffly.

"Yes, that's absolutely right," said the older Taylor, "this is between us. Now, why don't you step outside with me for a moment so we can discuss this _reasonably._ "

Alex clenched his fists, forcing himself to hold his father's challenging stare. Taking a deep breath, Alex braced himself, looked his father in the eye, and began to speak.

"Dad, what you're doing is wrong, and I'm not gonna let you keep pushing me around like this. You can't just track me down, rip me apart and misgender me in front of my friends, and — and demand money from me because you're _ashamed_ of who I am." Clenching his jaw, Alex stared directly at his father's frustrated face, pushing through his own rapidly spiking fear.

"So I—" Alex cleared his throat, his voice coming out high pitched and uncertain, "I'll have to ask you to please step outside. You aren't welcome in my apartment ever again."

The unspoken addition of 'stay out of my life' hung heavy in the air, silently echoing in Alex's head. His heart was hammering in his ears, every fiber of his being rioting against the bold show of defiance.

Alex wanted to take it all back, to apologize, to try and temper the terrifying anger his brain told him was coming, but he forced himself to stand firm. The others had stood up for him. They had defended him despite everything, standing brave in the face of his father's unrelenting hate.

Alex had to be brave, too. For them. For himself.

Holding his gaze level with his father, Alex felt a pit form in his stomach as his dad glared down his nose at Alex, shock quickly giving way to disgust. Scoffing, the older man stepped closer to Alex, leaning over and invading his child's space, looming over him with a sneer. All of a sudden Alex was a little kid again, scared and helpless.

"You have always been a _deluded fool,_ " his father whispered harshly, overemphasizing the consonants in his speech, "and you have no desire to improve. You've never been anything but a disappointment, and this is _clearly_ no exception."

Alex had to bite his lip to keep from crying as tears pooled in his eyes, the viscous film blurring his vision.

"I've wasted countless resources and time on you, trying to get through to a _child_ who continuously refuses to grow up and face _reality._ If you refuse to live in the real world," his father's eyes darkened, his unwavering stare gouging a hole in Alex's heart, "then I will not expend any further effort trying to help you."

Alex felt hot tears roll down his cheeks, escaping despite his best efforts to contain them. His father sneered, expression laced with disgust and hatred, and Alex couldn't focus on anything else.

Leaning back, Alex's father crossed his arms, glaring down at his despondent child. "You do not deserve to be called my daughter. I—"

Before he could degrade Alex any further, the elder Taylor was abruptly cut off when Ash reeled back and punched him across the face.

Sam let out a sharp, abbreviated burst of laughter, doubling over as Alex's father fell back. Kamal snorted loudly, offering a high five to Ash. Ash gave him a challenging glance, causing him to drop his hand with a pout.

“You… you _BITCH!!”_ the older man shouted, eyes narrowing in pure malice. Ash didn’t acknowledge Alex’s dad’s outburst, shaking out her hand indifferently. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, Ash smirked, watching as the man angrily clambered to his feet.

“Oh, my bad,” Ash quipped, her voice laced with sarcasm. “It was a reflex. Gut reaction to _abusive garbage._ ” Her eyes darkened maliciously, the threat of further attack hanging in the air. “ _Nobody deserves to be called your child,_ ” she hissed, looking down on him just as he had looked down on Alex.

Alex’s father grinned darkly, his anger showing clearly on his face. “You won’t be so damn _cocky_ when I take this to court, you—”

"Oh, you'll press charges? On what grounds?" Ryland interrupted, stepping towards Alex's dad. "Because, yeah, you got punched, but that's after you intruded on private property, refused to leave after being told to do so, and proceeded to verbally assault one of the occupants. In front of five witnesses." Crossing his arms, Ryland raised an eyebrow challengingly. "But yeah, go ahead and press charges. I'm sure that'll go _great_ for you."

The older man looked positively _enraged,_ but he didn't appear to have anything to say in response. After a moment of tense silence, he cleared his throat, straightening his tie in an attempt to regain control.

“My point has been made,” he said, turning to face Alex. “I'd rather not waste any further time with this.” Schooling his features into a blank expression, Alex’s father stalked over to the doorway, glaring at Alex over his shoulder. “Expect a letter of disownment shortly.”

With that he stormed out the door, closing it behind him loudly. It wasn’t an aggressive slam, but Alex still flinched at the sharp sound. The tension in the room quickly shifted from uniformly directed aggression to an underlying discomfort, all eyes turning towards Alex warily.

Ryland sidled over to his roommate, hovering over Alex hesitantly and trying to gauge if he was okay. Alex almost wanted to laugh at the familiarity of the situation, but he knew if he did he would inevitably start crying, and Alex didn’t want to get into that in front of the team.

Noticing the distant look on Alex’s face, Ryland looked over to Ash, making eye contact with her. Ash nodded, turning to the others.

“Hey, Lorenzo,” Ash said, directing the room’s attention away from the two men, “could you give me and Sam a ride home?” Lorenzo blinked a few times, glancing between Ash and Ryland curiously.

“Uh… yeah, I can, but—”

“Great, thanks,” Ash interrupted, “you guys head out, I just gotta grab my purse.” Patting Sam on the shoulder, Ash turned to look at her meaningfully. “Sam, go make sure they have the right address, okay?”

“Uh…” Sam glanced over at Ryland worriedly before nodding, “yeah, sure.” Turning to Kamal, Sam gestured over her shoulder towards the door. “C’mon dumbfuck,” she joked. She then led Kamal and Lorenzo out of the apartment, but not without looking back at Ryland on her way out the door.

Alex watched as Ash walked over to the computer area to retrieve her bag, Ryland shooting her a grateful smile as she passed. On her way back to the entryway, Ash paused, resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder. When Alex looked up at her, he was met with an expression of sympathy and compassion, with a notable undertone of strangely deep understanding.

“You’ve got my number if you wanna talk or somethin’,” Ash said, her head tilted slightly. “I know you’re trying to like… cut back on drinking, but I’m totally free to just hang or talk.” Grinning lopsidedly, she shook his shoulder teasingly, removing her hand and strolling over to the door.

Alex couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face, his eyes watering once more. The genuine nature of her offer helped assuage some of Alex’s lingering worries about the reactions of his friends and helped cool the slight simmer of anxiety in Alex’s throat.

“Oh,” Ash added, pausing halfway out the doorway, “by the way. Don’t let some shitty transphobe get to you, Al.” Looking over her shoulder, Ash smirked, mischief and confidentiality sparkling in her eyes. “What kind of sister-in-arms would I be if I didn’t do my damndest to support a fellow ‘deluded fool,’ right?”

Winking, Ash closed the door behind her, leaving Alex and Ryland to listen to the click of her shoes receding down the hall.


	11. Stand Against the Tide

The apartment was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the companionable energy and sound the two occupants had grown accustomed to. Ryland turned back towards Alex, eyeing his partner warily as the other man stared at the closed door with a furrowed brow.

“…Alex?” Ryland asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes with a cautious hand on Alex’s back. Alex blinked slowly, his face remaining tense even as he turned to look at the other.

Ryland frowned sadly, uncertainty clouding his expression. Alex closed his eyes, trying to keep from swaying unsteadily on his feet, and Ryland dropped his hand to his side with a slight sigh.

“Do… do you wanna lie down?” Ryland asked, and Alex blinked once before nodding slowly. Ryland nodded as well, running a hand through his ponytail absently. “Alright,” he said, looking over Alex, “well you’ve gotta… get changed first.”

Alex nodded again, absently running a hand over his chest. He started off down the hallway, only to pause when Ryland spoke once more.

“You need anything?” Alex turned back at the question, shaking his head both as a response and to clear his mind.

“Nah,” Alex replied, his voice cracking slightly. He smiled tiredly, the expression hesitant but genuine. Ryland nodded, and Alex caught a complex look on Ryland’s face as he turned to retreat down the hall.

Turning into Ryland’s room, Alex let the door swing shut behind him, the room blanketed in darkness. Hopefully Ryland wouldn’t mind him using his bedroom to change. Alex didn’t want to stand in front of a mirror right now.

Unbuttoning his top, Alex didn’t bother turning on the lights. Over the past few weeks he’d gotten better at managing his dysphoria, but Alex didn’t want to risk anything, given all the past trauma that had just been brought to the surface.

Better to change in the dark than to risk a resurgence of old problems.

Alex pulled his binder over his head, laying it on the floor. He decided to leave his button-up piled on the ground with his binder, an old, dark brown sweatshirt catching his eye.

Picking up the baggy hoodie, Alex held it to his chest, burying his face in the soft fabric. It was one of Ryland’s old sweatshirts, the garment having gone unused for a few weeks as the weather got warmer. The cloth was fuzzy and a little downy, shedding small clumps of thread as Alex rubbed it against his face, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

Tugging the sweater over his head, Alex felt himself relax as the comfortable material enveloped his torso, falling over his cargo shorts. The loose covering hid every curve and edge that Alex was so ashamed of, and Alex felt more secure with it on. The sweatshirt was much too big for Alex, but that only made it more comforting.

Gathering his discarded clothing, Alex pushed the door aside with his shoulder, heading back out to the main room. Ryland was sitting on the sofa, glancing up when Alex entered the room. He patted the cushion beside him, inviting Alex to sit down.

Alex let himself collapse on the couch, falling into Ryland’s side. Ryland gently wrapped an arm around Alex, allowing him to curl up against him, hiding his face in Ryland’s soft shirt.

Ryland’s body was comfortably warm, and Alex felt safe and content wrapped up in his hoodie against the other man. Even still, Alex couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, the sudden appearance of his father bringing back worries and conflicts he’d buried deep within the recesses of his mind.

The room was quiet as Alex listened to Ryland’s steady heartbeat, laying his head against the other man's chest. The rhythmic thumping helped ease Alex’s tumultuous thoughts, reminding him of his younger childhood, when his mother would lull him to sleep by holding him against her chest.

The sudden memory of his childhood brought Alex's mind back to the events of the day, most notably his father's intrusion. While Alex was immeasurably grateful to Ryland for being such a solid, reliable support system for him for so long, he had to admit that he was nervous about bringing up his family life with him. In a sense, Alex was almost glad that his father had forced his way back into his life; now he didn't have to worry about broaching the topic with the team.

Still, now that the subject had been introduced so forcefully, Alex knew there was no way he could go without explaining more, at the very least just to Ryland. Ryland's been there for him through so much, and Alex owes it to him to explain. Besides, the reappearance of his dad brought a bunch of forgotten pain with it, and Alex couldn't deny that getting some of it out there would at the very least make it less daunting of an obstacle.

"…Ryland?" Alex muttered, causing Ryland to hum in acknowledgment. "I… I'm sorry," he continued, hesitating a moment, "about my dad."

"You don't hafta apologize," Ryland said matter-of-factly. "It's his fault, not yours." Alex couldn't help but frown slightly, his face scrunching up in thought.

“He's… not usually like that,” Alex said, sighing tiredly. “In — in front of others, I mean. He usually tries to leave a… better impression on people. Pretends to be nicer than he is. I guess he, uh… didn’t really care what you guys thought of him, though, so he didn’t bother pretending.”

Alex could feel Ryland’s eyes on him, but the other man didn’t say anything. Alex wasn’t sure what he was saying, but the words continued to flow out of his mouth unencumbered.

“I’m just happy he didn’t — didn’t yell. That would… that was always the worst. It’s, uh… it’s crazy how something as… as small as a — a glare, or tone of voice, or… just being loud can…” Alex swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, “can just… rip you to shreds.”

Alex’s hands found the hem of Ryland’s shirt, picking at a loose thread nervously. Ryland remained silent, just listening as Alex continued on his aimless tangent.

“Dad’s always… he’s always been disappointed in me. Ever since I can remember. He never hit me,” Alex said, his voice soft and timid, “but… I almost…” Hesitating, Alex got a far off look in his eyes, his hands stilling for just a moment. “I almost wish he did.” His grip on Ryland’s shirt tightened, his gaze remaining distant. “‘Cause… bruises heal, y’know? But… this stuff… these things… it feels like they'll never go away.”

Ryland hesitantly rubbed Alex’s arm, offering silent reassurance and comfort. Alex sighed, tension fading from his body as he relaxed his hold on the cloth.

“I’ve never been good enough for him. All my life, he’s… forced all these rules and… expectations on me. Some people would tell him… tell him that he shouldn’t… be so hard on me.” Chuckling dryly, Alex began to absently fiddle with Ryland’s shirt again, needing something to occupy his hands. “He never listened to them.”

“Mom…” Alex hated how he could feel his lower eyelids getting wet, “mom would tell him. Mom was so nice… she let me be… myself, y’know? ‘Cause she… she liked _me._ I…” he paused, clearing his throat, “I miss her.” Alex shook his head lightly, blinking back tears with a bitter smile.

“After mom… died, dad got… angrier. He… like… I think he thought it was my fault. I wouldn’t be surprised — he blamed me for everything. His business failures… personal problems… my mom…” The end of his sentence broke off into a strained sob, and Alex had to take a moment to try and compose himself.

“I moved out as soon as I could, ‘cause I… didn’t wanna be under his control anymore. But he… uh… he couldn’t have that!” With a bitter smirk, Alex let out a sharp exhale of breath, unsure if he wanted to chuckle or sob.

“He made sure I stayed dependent on him. Sent me monthly checks for… groceries and shit, paid rent for my apartment, and… that sounds nice, but he… I could never keep a job. I _still_ can’t. I don’t… have any proof or anything, but… I feel like he did something to… make people fire me. I _know_ it sounds crazy. I know! But he’s… he’s got a lot of connections and… I don’t think I’m _that_ bad of an employee, I… I dunno.”

Tears had started to stream down Alex’s cheeks during his rant, his face flushed and red. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie he had borrowed, sniffling quietly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly. “I just…” Ryland squeezed his shoulder, humming quietly, and Alex felt the sound rumble inside the other man’s chest. “I’ve always felt so… so _useless_ because of it. He had total control over me and… I couldn’t do anything for myself. And… and then…” Alex’s voice wavered, his eyes watering.

“And then I came out.”

Alex frowned slightly, furrowing his brow and biting his lip hesitantly as painful memories came rushing back to the forefront of his mind.

“I only came out to the band at first, ‘cause… I thought they’d be cool about it. I was still so confused, and… I didn’t really know what to do. The guys were my friends… at least I thought they were.”

Ryland shifted slightly, rubbing Alex’s arm sympathetically. Alex knew Ryland also had a history in terms of “being screwed by people he thought were his friends,” and Alex could certainly relate.

“They said they were cool with it at first! They said that we could figure it out together, and I… I believed them! I trusted them…” Inhaling sharply, Alex closed his eyes for a moment, tempering his broiling emotions.

“One of the guys told my dad. Apparently he was paying them to… keep an eye on me or whatever. So they told him, ‘nd he got them to kick me out ‘cause I — I ‘wasn’t mature enough’ to handle it.” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, the thin watery film making his vision swim.

“So I lost the only semblance of a job, or — or a _family_ that I had. But that wasn’t enough for dad! He stopped sending me money, he stopped paying for my apartment, ‘nd I still couldn’t keep a job. I lost everything.”

“Even when I was living on the streets I —” Alex swallowed dryly, hesitating, “I still couldn’t escape him! Whenever I tried to get a job or make a good impression on anyone, it’s — it’s like he was still hovering over me, everywhere I went. No matter what I did he — his influence… he followed me. He’d… Dad made sure I depended on him for everything… and then he took it all away. He cut off everything so… so he could get rid of the — the failure that haunted him.”

The air was tense as Alex hesitated, eyes squeezed shut as Ryland watched him carefully.

“So he could get rid of me.”

Alex’s breathing was haggard, his voice weak and watery, and his face was flushed and hot. A dizzying mix of frustration, shame, and misery swirled around in his head, overwhelming in its intensity.

“Dad always said he wanted me to be his perfect little daughter. And, I guess if I wasn’t gonna be that, then he wasn’t gonna let me be anyone else either! I don’t matter. All that matters is his reputation.”

Frowning, Alex felt hot tears slip down his cheeks as his father’s words echoed in his head. _You have brought nothing but shame to this family, █████_. Even in his thoughts, the name hurt to hear, ripping a hole through his chest. That’s all he is to his dad, all he’ll ever be. No matter what Alex does, all his dad cares about is _her._

“Whenever I hear it, I… I remember her,” Alex mumbled, staring at his hands blankly. “I remember her, and I feel so… so guilty. She was just a little girl… all she cared about was her stuffed animal collection. She loved singing, and playing dress-up with her mom, and eating chicken nuggets. She wanted to be a rockstar, and she wanted to make friends, and… and she was so filled with — with hope. With happiness.”

Alex clenched his fists, his lip trembling as he continued to ramble. “I think about her, and — and sometimes I wonder… if it would be better if she stayed. Because she’s gone, now, and she hasn’t been here for a long, _long_ time.”

Glancing down at the long sleeve covering his hand, Alex bit back a sarcastic chuckle, the memory of a young, easygoing girl jarring when contrasted with the disheveled man crying his eyes out in his partner’s oversized sweatshirt.

“But maybe… maybe I would be better if I was her. Maybe everyone would like her better. Because she’s — she’s so much better. Dad actually _liked_ her, so maybe everyone else would too. Maybe I wouldn’t be so _useless_ and _unloveable_ if I was her.”

Alex messily wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, sniffling through hitched breaths and sobs. Now that he’d let this buried fear into the open, the dam had burst, and Alex couldn’t stop the words from overflowing.

“It’s — it’s my fault that she’s gone, so I — I’d drink, and smoke, and hide behind all these fuckin’… drugs and shit, because maybe if I’m… maybe if I’m not myself then… maybe she could come back! If I leave then maybe she can come back, and dad’ll be happy, and — and she can make everything better. Because, I mean, since I’m not good enough then… then…”

Alex took shallow, hurried breaths, his expression dazed and unfocused as he tried to collect himself. His face slackened, resignation overtaking his features.

“…then maybe _she_ would be.”

Alex wasn’t entirely sure why he had started rambling, but it felt good to get everything off his chest. He’d kept all of this bottled up for so long, and putting it out there in the open felt almost freeing, in a way. He’d sat up during his tirade, having wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. Alex kept his eyes trained on his hands, breathing heavily as leftover tears ran down his face.

Ryland hesitated for a moment, watching Alex sadly. Resting a hand on Alex’s leg, he offered a sympathetic smile to the other man, hoping to convey his support. Alex looked up at Ryland, his eyes wide and cheeks damp.

“…Look, man,” Ryland began after a few more seconds of tense silence. “I don’t have any, like… well-thought-out reassurances. I’d love to, but… you know me. I’m no good at words ‘n stuff.”

Alex giggled quietly at that, his shoulders shaking slightly, and Ryland couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face at his partner’s laugh.

“But, for real, Alex… your dad’s dead fuckin’ wrong. I… I invited _you_ to stay with me. _You’re_ the one who brought the team together. _You’re_ the one who pushed us to Bloodmatch. _You’re_ the one who did that, Lexi, not anyone else.”

Alex opened his mouth to object but Ryland shook his head, cutting him off before he could start.

“Just… listen… I don’t really know what to say, exactly, because… I’m never gonna be able to totally understand how you feel. But…” Ryland sighed gently, “I don’t think that… that she’s a different person from you. She’s… she’s just a part of you now, and… and just like her… you deserve to be happy.”

Alex couldn’t help but stare at Ryland disbelievingly, his eyes wide and watery. He couldn’t even begin to sort through the emotions whirling around inside his head, a wobbly smile threatening to slip onto his face.

Ryland inhaled deeply, closing his eyes before leaning forward, hesitantly pressing a soft kiss to Alex’s cheek. He pulled back quickly, his cheeks red, and couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Alex’s embarrassed, awe-filled expression.

Touching his fingertips to his lips, Alex’s face slowly broke into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in overwhelming surprise and joy. While it wasn’t the first time Alex and Ryland had kissed, it was always special when Ryland initiated the gesture, and Alex treasured each and every instance.

“You’ve been doin’ great, Alex. You’ve been cutting back on weed and booze, you stood up to your asshole of a dad, and, Alex… you’re amazing.” Ryland bit his lip, hesitating, before nervously glancing to the side. “I… I fell in love with _you,_ Lexi,” he said, not looking at Alex, though the edges of his lips appeared to be trembling in the beginnings of a smile.

Alex sniffled again, tears gathering in his eyes once more. He didn’t bother trying to stop the flow this time, crying openly as he buried his face in Ryland’s shoulder. Alex had a wobbly smile on his face as he hiccuped slightly, hugging Ryland tightly in the hopes his gratitude would be conveyed to the other man. Ryland returned the embrace, gently rubbing Alex’s back in a gesture of comfort and affection.

As his crying petered out, Alex felt exhaustion begin to creep up on him. The day had been incredibly stressful, and Alex was certainly starting to feel the effects of the prolonged high-energy he’d been operating on.

Alex’s eyelids began to droop, the comfortable position not doing anything to keep him from falling asleep. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Alex basked in the warm fuzzy feeling he floated in.

Despite everything, Ryland still cares about him. Despite everything, Ryland still _likes_ him. Even if no one else does. Even if Alex doesn’t like himself. Ryland likes him.

Even if Alex himself doesn’t understand why, Ryland thinks he’s good enough.

And that means more than anything his dad might say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!! we made it, guys! this is the end of alex's sorta... development saga, and what a journey it's been! hopefully you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it, and thank you so much for all the support!
> 
> there's one chapter left to sorta tie everything together, so look forward to that in the coming days!


	12. Find Your Place

"That match was great, you guys!" Alex exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high five. The team filed down the stairs off the stage, everyone except Kamal obliging and high giving their energetic coach on the way down. Kamal just flipped him off with a smirk, and Alex just smiled and nodded at him in return.

When Ryland passed, bringing up the rear of the group, he half-heartedly smacked Alex's hand, rolling his eyes fondly. Alex didn't lower his hand, however, lacing his fingers in Ryland's with a grin. Ryland blushed deeply, his relaxed smirk quickly overtaken by an expression of shock. Despite this, however, Ryland didn't retract his hand, instead intertwining his fingers with Alex's.

Alex grinned even wider, squeezing Ryland's hand excitedly as the two turned to follow the team. Ash gives them a knowing smirk when they rejoin the group, chuckling as Ryland jokingly flips her off.

The team started heading away from the stage, making their way through the sea of people. Exchanging quips and jokes, Alex looked on contentedly as he trailed behind the group, hand-in-hand with Ryland.

As Alex chattered aimlessly with the rest of the team, he felt a wave of contentment wash over him. People passed by him on all sides, yet he felt little unease or discomfort at their idle glances.

Alex's breathing came easily, his binder tight yet not painfully restricting. Dysphoria still lingered in the back of his mind, but it wasn't at the forefront, serving as more of an idle itch that Alex hardly noticed these days. He still had his bad days, and he probably always would, but they were much more manageable with the support of Ryland and the others.

Exiting the arena area, the team began aimlessly wandering around the convention hall, looking around at the various booths and displays. Esports People had been invited to participate in a series of exhibition matches at a local video game showcase, and they had jumped at the opportunity, both to take advantage of the public exposure, and because they got free tickets to the event as a result.

Ryland, in particular, was especially excited to look around, hardly able to contain the small excited smile on his face. Alex could hardly keep his eyes off him, Ryland’s subtle elation captivating him by sheer proximity.

As they explored Ryland never once pulled his hand out of Alex’s grip, the rare allowance of public affection keeping Alex’s face in a perpetual grin. There weren’t many people around, and the gesture was small enough that Ryland didn’t seem worried about it being noticed or pointed out by passersby. That, and it was painfully obvious how delighted Alex was by even small acts of affection, so Ryland had begun making small allowances for his overly affectionate partner.

While the hall was still occupied, now that the tournament had ended for the day the majority of the crowd had cleared out, leaving only a few sparse collections of convention-goers. Alex was thankful for the relatively empty area — while the team didn’t have many fans, the group generally preferred to avoid garnering too much attention while out. It wasn’t often that they’d get recognized, but it was never the most comfortable experience when they did.

“What time is it?” Alex mused, reaching for his phone. “Y’guys wanna get something to eat?” Kamal crossed his arms behind his head idly, turning with the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said with a grin, “as long as one of you losers is paying.” Sam rolled her eyes at him, and Alex just chuckled good-naturedly.

“Well, we could probably find something around he—”

“█████?”

Alex cut himself off abruptly, his grip on Ryland’s hand tightening in shock. Exhaling deeply, he forced an unsteady smile on his face, trying not to let himself be bothered by the pitying looks on his teammate’s faces.

“Around here,” he finished, feeling Ryland squeeze his hand reassuringly. Alex had to assume that whoever called out was referring to someone else, the sudden shout catching him off guard. That was one thing that hadn’t changed all that much — hearing his deadname still sent a spike of fear and unease through Alex, regardless of the circumstances.

“█████! █████ Taylor!!”

Flinching again, Alex turned in the direction of the voice, his heart pounding. Looking over, Alex instinctively forced an almost pained looking smile, seeing three familiar men jogging over to the group with sleazy grins.

“Hey! Seth, Tyler!” Alex called, waving with his free hand. “My ex-bandmates,” he whispered to Ryland as they drew closer, schooling his expression into one of faux-happiness. Alex felt Ryland drift a bit closer to his side, a protective aura emanating from the other man as the rest of the team watched on cautiously.

“Damn, girl,” Seth said, smirking, “it’s been a while, huh?” Alex was by no means short, but Seth was still able to look down at him, flipping his greasy blond hair out of his eyes. Alex chuckled uncomfortably, glancing around nervously, wary of anyone in the vicinity who might be listening in.

“Uh, yeah, it — it has.” Looking back at Seth, Alex ran his free hand through his hair anxiously. “It’s Alex, by the way.”

“Yeah, right, whatever.” Seth glanced over at Tyler with a smirk, his companion snickering quietly with a matching grin. “How’ve you been doing, though? It sucks that we lost touch!”

Alex felt his smile grow strained, the overwhelming torrent of negative emotions almost clogging his throat. He _really_ didn’t want to engage in polite small talk with these assholes, but he couldn’t risk making a scene in such a public place. Taking a subtle breath, Alex squeezed Ryland’s hand again, thankful for the unspoken support the other man was offering.

“Yeah, I’ve — I’ve been doing _great_ , actually!” Alex chirped in a sickly-sweet tone. “I coach one of the top Killcore teams — that’s why we’re here!” Gesturing to the rest of the team, Alex took the opportunity to nod reassuringly at the others, choking back a snicker at Ash’s poorly concealed look of aggression.

“Mm, yeah,” Seth muttered, his expression clearly displaying his disinterest. “Yeah, we’ve been workin’ on buildin’ the band’s rep recently — tryin’ to find a few new members ‘nd stuff. What was the new temp named, again…?”

“Uhh… Tamryn, I think?” Tyler chimed in, shrugging with a lopsided grin. "Or maybe it was Taylor? All I know is it was some stupid made-up sounding name."

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. He’s not that good, but whaddya gonna do, huh?”

Alex hummed absently, trying to stifle his mounting discomfort beneath a half-hearted nod. The conversation lapsed into an awkward silence, not having the structure to stand on its own, but before Alex could try to duck out of the encounter, Seth abruptly reignited the discussion.

“Listen, seein’ you here‘s really interesting, cuz we’ve been lookin’ for a new singer, right? Tyler over here can’t sing for shit,” Seth said teasingly, elbowing his companion. “So like, we’d be totally willing to let you back into the group!”

“What?” Alex asked, his smile faltering slightly. Seth nodded, an insincere smile on his face as he looked to Alex for approval.

“Yeah, sure! You’re done with all that… stupid hormone shit, right? So why not!” Seth glanced at Tyler, who hastily nodded in agreement, quick to mask his bored expression. “C’mon, it’d be just like old times!”

Alex could only stare blankly at the two men, blinking in disbelief. They… they couldn’t be _serious_ , could they? After everything they’d said to him; after everything Alex had endured to overcome what they had such a big hand in causing, they expected him to come crawling back like it was nothing?

_Seriously?_

Alex was completely and utterly baffled. A small part of him wanted to say yes, wanted to beg Seth to take him back, _he’s so sorry, he’ll be better this time,_ but there was no way he could. He couldn’t just up and leave his friends behind to go chase some pipe dream — and why would it turn out well this time, when it had backfired on him so spectacularly before?

Besides, Alex was nowhere near that desperate.

Not anymore.

“Uh, look,” Alex said, clearing his throat slightly, “I, um, I appreciate the offer, dude, but… I’ve gotta say no, man.” Shaking his head, Alex let a small smile of disbelief spread across his face, cocking his head to the side. “No offense, but… being in the band wasn’t exactly the _best_ time in my life, y’know?”

Alex could see that Seth was on the verge of replying with some snarky rebuttal, so he continued before he could be interrupted, maintaining his sarcastic grin.

“Besides, now I’ve got the team to worry about!” Turning to the others, Alex offered them a much more genuine smile, delighted at the supportive grins he received in return.

“And…” Looking to Ryland, Alex’s expression softened, receiving a soft smile in return, “I’m happier now.” Turning back to Seth with a much more self-assured expression, Alex shook his head once more. “So yeah, I’m gonna pass, dude. Thanks, though!”

It was now Seth and Tyler's turn to wear expressions of disbelief, their mouths practically hanging open. Alex couldn’t blame them; they’d never really known Alex to stand up for himself, and it was probably a bit jarring for them.

“But hey,” Alex continued, “it was good seeing you! We’ve gotta get going though; the team’s got a match tomorrow and we’ve gotta prepare.” Turning away, Alex grinned cheekily at the team, walking past them with Ryland in tow. “Good luck with the band, though!” he called over his shoulder, unable to keep from chuckling as he walked away. The team quickly trailed after him, but only after giving their own assortment of cocky grins and middle fingers to the flabbergasted pair.

Once they’d managed to get a good ways away from Alex’s former bandmates, Kamal burst out laughing, grinning cockily.

“Holy _fuck_ , Alex,” Sam said, chuckling slightly, “you went _off_ on them!” Alex couldn’t help but chuckle along, looking at Ryland with an exhilarated grin.

“It’s been… _so_ long since I’ve seen those guys,” Alex mused, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “They’re… still kinda dicks.”

That comment got laughter out of the entire team, including a small chuckle from Ryland by his side. Looking over, Alex was met with a soft, gentle smile from Ryland, the fondness in his gaze making Alex's heart melt into mush.

As the team moved into discussing what they should get to eat, Alex stayed close to Ryland, nearly pressed into his side. He had to keep himself from more outwardly expressing the overflowing affection brewing in his chest, instead hoping he could convey it through sheer proximity.

Despite the uncomfortable resurfacing of his former bandmates, Alex felt shockingly better than he did after his father’s visit. Not much had changed in his life since then on a surface level, but Alex was much more secure in his place in the world than he ever had been in recent memory.

Alex had spent so many years clawing his way out of the hole his father had dug for him, and against all odds, he’d finally managed. Despite everything his father had said and done, Alex pulled through, thanks to his now-close friends. Thanks to _Ryland._

Squeezing his hand, Alex smiled at Ryland, heart overflowing with emotions. Unable to voice everything he was feeling, Alex beamed at his partner, his _boyfriend_ , raising their joined hands between them. At Ryland’s quizzical expression, Alex simply shrugged and turned to follow the others, swinging their linked hands as he walked joyfully.

Thanks to the support from these people he’d been blessed with, Alex felt _good._ Things weren’t perfect, but he felt alright. He doesn’t need his dad, and he doesn’t need the band. He doesn’t need anyone who’d make him rely on them for approval.

He's his own person, and his friends love him for who he is.

Alex doesn't need to be anyone else.

Because Alex is good enough.

And he finally knows that for sure.

* * *

_Son of man's a man for all to see_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a!! it's Done!!! thank you all so much for reading, this was a wild ride!!
> 
> thank you once again to Vziii for being so helpful during the process of writing this!! i couldn't have done this without them!!
> 
> and thank you all for reading!! i'm very happy with how this turned out, and am super happy with the reception this has received!! please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts; i love reading each and every one of them!!!!
> 
> thank you all again!!! hope you all are having a good day/night!!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you so, _so_ much to Vziii for beta reading!! I couldn't have done this without their assistance!!


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